


Illusioned

by Shannona



Series: Illusioned [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anxiety, Attempted Murder, Betrayal, Blood Magic, Character Death, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Fluff, Grief/Mourning, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Mute Draco Malfoy, Mystery, Panic Attacks, Pansy Parkinson Bashing, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Pregnant Hermione Granger, Trust Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:32:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 36
Words: 208,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23463967
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannona/pseuds/Shannona
Summary: Hermione returns to Hogwarts to complete her final year as Head Girl! With the Battle of Hogwarts over and the Wizarding World united and attempting to return to peace-time, she says goodbye to her two best friends as they head to Auror training. Little does she know that her world would soon be turned upside by a person she had never expected to become a part of her life, let alone drag her into his.
Relationships: Ginny Weasley/Blaise Zabini, Harry Potter/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Theodore Nott, Lucius Malfoy/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Series: Illusioned [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853746
Comments: 234
Kudos: 259





	1. Chapter 1

She was pulled from her dream by a faint rustling in the room and was urged to open her eyes by the faint light spilling in through the white shutters. She fluttered her eyes as she tortured them with the day's sun and took in a deep breath. That was when she saw him, the cause of all the noise.

He was walking around the bedroom, picking up laundry and throwing it in the basket, his perfect reflexes not missing a single shot. He picked up a towel and rubbed his wet hair on it, emerging from underneath the cotton with tousled locks. She watched him hungrily as he walked over to the wardrobe, selecting a black turtleneck jumper to accompany his black chino trousers and pulled it over his head. She groaned inwardly as the jumper slid over his torso, hiding himself from her view, and sitting up on her elbow and resting her head in her hand, she watched him more eagerly; wishing him to look over at her and then divulge himself of all that fabric. He took one final look in the mirror, running his long finger through his hair and wordlessly casting a drying and straightening charm. He turned to walk towards his nightstand and caught her eyes. He smirked, slinking towards her, cat like.

‘You are supposed to be asleep!’ his smirk breaking into a smile as he brought his lips down to place them on her own. Her inward groan turned to a full blown moan as he took his hands and cupped her face, brushing his thumb across the skin on her cheek.

‘And you,’ she muttered, breaking away from the kiss while her mind screamed at her to return, ‘are supposed to be in bed with me.’ He laughed and sat on the edge of the bed, hand still cupping her face.

‘You know I have to work today love,’ he sighed. ‘I will return!’

She groaned at him, throwing her hand over her face in resentment, her head falling back on the pillow with a soft smush. How hard is it to get a man to stay for a day? Every morning this week had been the same; him sneaking around trying not to wake her, she attempting to convince him to stay with all the wiles she had, but still he left her for the day. He could say anything to the office; sickness, burst pipe, needy wife. She honestly did not care.

‘Oh love!’ he smiled as he pulled her arms away and stared deep into her eyes. ‘One more day and the weekend is here. You have me for two full days!’ She pouted her lips at him.

‘I know you are bored since you left work! How about decorating the new room today?’ he asked her, trying to placate her the only way he knew. Her interest peaked, she sat back up on her elbow.

‘And I don’t need your permission for colour or furniture?’ she asked through burrowed eyebrows. He smirked at her again, resting his hand on her hip, making her insides squirm and a flush of colour run along her face and chest.

‘Please, spend all my hard earned inheritance’ he said, thick with sarcasm, chuckled at his own joke and leant forward to kiss her on the forehead.

‘I will see you at the end of the day!’ he stated, stood picking up his wallet and wand from the side table and strode towards the bedroom door. As he laid his hand on the doorknob, she piped up again.

‘How does pink sound Draco?’ she smiled at him cheekily. He sighed and turned back to look at her, smirking again - his smirk would be the death of her one day.

‘If you really want to jinx us Hermione, then by all means paint it pink. Bye Love!’ He blew her a kiss, shut the door behind him and she heard him make his way downstairs to the living room and the distinct noise of the floo network being accessed. She groaned, threw her head back on the pillow and smiled to herself, a lazy hand rubbing across her swollen belly. If this baby had his smirk they were both in trouble. That had been the beginning of it all.

* * *

Head Girl! She had smiled gleefully when she had received her letter, the gold shining badge falling out of the more than usually thick envelope. She had pored over all the rules, instructions and responsibilities she now had before running down into the Weasley kitchen and brandishing it for everyone to see. They had all congratulated her with cheering and hugging, Harry laying a particularly long kiss on her cheek before Ron enveloped them both in a hug.

She had been living with the Weasley’s since the end of the Battle of Hogwarts; they had insisted upon it once she had revealed to them what had happened to her parents. She had loved her time here this summer; the boys and her had returned from Australia at the end of May. Harry and Ron had been adamant to accompany her, Harry had made it clear that after spending 7 years with them he wasn’t ready for a break yet. It had not taken long to find them and reverse the enchantments and after a difficult week of conversations, her parents had made it clear that they loved her, but wanted to remain and live out their dream. She was happy for them and glad for the time they all now had to have a break. Her head was filled with memories of her, Harry and Ron travelling around the country and exploring new places without the fear of what might be following them. 

On their return it had been endless days of garden quidditch, feasts and unfortunate press conferences with the newly elected Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt. ‘The Golden Trio’ had taken their responsibilities very seriously and no matter how much the three of them hated being dragged in front of the public eye, they knew that the public had burning questions and they were owed at least some explanation. It had been hard for Harry, she knew that due to many times she grasped his hand under the table at a conference or an interview with Ron flanking him, a supportive and overly-protective hand on his shoulder. It had not taken long for the question of their futures to come up, and at the time the three of them had exchanged uncomfortable looks, unsure of what to answer and passing over on the question. It had been a hazy evening when Hermione had gone for a walk among the flowery glade at the back of the Burrow and had been approached by her best friend with a wary look on his face.

_‘What are you thinking about?’ Harry asked her, looking deep into her soul with a glance._

_They had become indefinitely comfortable around each other since spending a year together in close quarters. She was certain he knew her every thought from her facial expressions without having to ask her. She lazily smiled at him, dropping the daisy she had been playing with and looking at him with earnest._

_‘I don’t think you will like what I have to say!’ she sighed._

_He smiled at her, taking her hand softly and pulling her towards the small lake in the middle of the glade, sitting on the edge and patting the space beside him. She dropped next to him and watched him take off his shoes and roll up the bottom of his jeans, dunking his feet loudly into the cool water. He dropped his hands into his lap and watched her decisively, not taking his eyes off her before she huffed , slipped off her sandals and joined him - he softly kicked her feet and she rolled her eyes at him._

_‘So...what will I not like?’ he asked, staring out and watching the dragonflies dance on the skin of the water._

_‘I am going back to school Harry!’ she said quietly, not taking her eyes off him as he turned his head smiling at her._

_‘How did I know you were going to say that?’ he asked. ‘Oh yeah!’ he continued ‘I know you! Why would I not like that?’_

_‘Harry, you have been determined to keep us all together for the last four months!’ she stated indignantly. ‘But honestly, I am desperate to return!’ she paused not really knowing how to say her next piece. ‘ I don’t know what it is going to be like without the two of you!’ He looked shocked, as if he did not realise she knew his every move._

_‘I know you aren’t going to come with me! I’m not stupid!’ she smiled. ‘You are going to play hero again, train to be an Auror. I saw the owl arrive from Kingsley, you would be an idiot to turn that up. I know you loved Hogwarts but you have found your calling, I am yet to discover mine. And Ron…’ she paused thinking carefully about her next word._

_‘What about me?’ they both heard his dulcet tones behind them._

_They turned and saw him stumbling towards them in his brightest blue shorts, already using his toes to stumble his shoes off, his hands laden with three glasses. He settled himself on the other side of Hermione, passing the drinks over to her, smiling as he did so._

_‘Go on...what about me?’ he pressed on. Hermione took a swig of her drink, and coughed slightly at the burn in her nose. She tasted the familiar citrus of Gillywater but laced with the burn of Firewhiskey._

_‘Is this a double?’ Harry asked incredulously, patting his chest at the sting._

_‘Triple!’ Ron confirmed with a lopsided grin. ‘I thought this conversation called for something strong. Plus….’ he said, pulling a bottle from his bottle ‘Top ups!’_

_‘I was going to say that I am not a fool - you will follow him blindly! Not that I am saying it’s a blind choice’ she hurried. ‘And you know I usually would,’ she expressed laying a hand on Harry’s knee and squeezing lightly, ‘But I need to do this!’_

_‘Hermione…’ started Ron, and she turned her head towards him to see his head leaning slightly to the side like a curious labrador. ‘Did you not think we had already prepared for you to tell us that?’ She laughed and looked back to the water to see a small fish pop up to the surface and drop back below the ripples it caused. How fitting the conversation - she thought._

_‘Please go! Please go and learn everything you can! Bring it all back to us and we will tease you mercilessly!’ cried Harry looking to the sky. She pushed her shoulder into him, knocking him slightly._

_‘But just don’t think it will all be the same - even if we were going with you. We don’t want you to see places and...remember things!’ Ron said precariously._

_All three of them sat in silence, drinking Ron’s dangerous concoction, Hermione felt the fumes igniting her blood with fire and ice. She knew they were right, Hogwarts would not be the same without them but without them she knew that she would be able to focus on her studies. The last seven years had been about the boys, keeping them alive and safe and helping them however she could. Now would be the time for her to explore her magic and delve deeper into the magical history of all her favourite subjects. Of course, the castle would be difficult. Seeing the corridors, the scorch marks, the ghosts and whispers of the past of the last year would be ever present in her mind, but how could she let that dissuade her from her true journey._

_‘Fine!’ she shouted before she realised how much the drink had affected her. The boys both jumped at her words, Harry’s wand was already out and Ron was having to top up his drink because he had spilled it. She laughed as she continued, holding out her glass for a refill. ‘I will go! But promise me you will visit?’ she asked, almost begging them._

_Immediately, Harry had his arm around her shoulder dragging her towards him to lean against him, Ron shuffled closer, lifting her legs out of the water and draping them over his knees. She laughed at these actions, closing her eyes and laying her head back on Harry’s shoulder. Of course Hogwarts would be great but she would miss her boys._

_‘Why would you even ask that Granger?’ Ron choked out ‘I am gonna need my Honeydukes fix!’_

_She sneered and kicked him, leaving a lovely wet footprint on his shorts._

_‘Just promise us something Hermione.’ Harry stated, she turned her head to look over at him. ‘Don't get some horrible boyfriend!’_

_She jabbed him in the ribs, sitting up and pushing him forwards. He went crashing into the lake, followed closely by Ron as she kicked him in. She howled with laughter as she watched their shocked faces, but regretted it instantly as they both grabbed her by the feet and dragged her under. They laughed, drinking and playing like this until Ginny, looking remarkably like Molly Weasley, stormed out and told them to dry up for dinner. With an apologetic look, Harry jumped out and grabbed the others hands to drag them out too. They all linked hands as they wandered back to the Burrow, Ron stumbling more than the other two as Hermione used her wand to dry them all off but mischievously not performing a sobering charm on any of them._

* * *

  
  


She smiled at the memory as she climbed on board the gleaming scarlet train, her nostrils filled with the smell of coal and steam, her ears ringing with owl hoots and goodbye’s. Ron helped her get her trunk into the Head’s carriage and she stood by the door, watching them watch her. They stood side by side, Ron towering over the three of them, and she smiled at them. Tomorrow, they were heading off for Auror training, although it had been specified by Kingsley that he didn’t think either of the boys needed it, he would be putting them through a two week intensive to ensure they were physically prepared for the task ahead. She couldn’t have imagined, this time last year, that she would be standing with them at the Hogwarts express, she might have gone as far as to say that she didn’t expect them to be standing at all. The thought pricked her eyes with tears and she chuckled and threw herself at them before they threatened to spill over and down her flushed cheeks.

They enveloped her, wrapping their arms around her, she felt Ron’s hand surround the two of them as he rested his chin on the top of Hermione’s head and she buried her head in Harry’s chest. After over a year together, they were separating. She was sure the papers would have a field day when they found out, or if someone got a picture of this overwhelming sight.When they had broken apart, she hugged them each separately, trying to memorise their smell and the way their muscles felt under her hands, planting a kiss on each of their cheeks. And again, she just stared at them with wonder before Ron had enough and pushed her onto the carriage shutting the door.

‘Remember my warning!’ shouted Harry as the train started to edge out of the station. ‘No horrible boyfriend lest they be ready for The Chosen One’s wrath!’ he laughed.

She watched them wave until the train was almost out of the station and they disapparated. She stood, staring out the window as London passed her by, feeling alone and silent for what felt like the first time in a long time. She was about to slump down with a textbook when she heard a drawl behind her.

‘No horrible boyfriend eh Granger?’ she swung around to see a tall sleek, platinum haired, steely eyed boy of 18 bearing down on her, smirking at her reaction to his vibrational tone.

‘Malfoy!’ she stated, raising her eyebrows and matching his intense gaze.

‘Granger!’ he replied, the corner of his mouth turning up, transforming his smirk into a downright sneer.

‘The reason for your visit?’ she asked him in a clipped, short tone.

‘Visit? No, no,’ he smiled. ‘Head’s compartment!’ he started looking around at the fancy colours displayed around the small room. ‘Not a visit - this my carriage too!’

She was usually so good at hiding her emotions but this one hit her like a wave, a tonne of bricks, a raging bushfire. The indignation plastered across her face as her jaw jutted out and she looked away from him, unable to stare in his eyes anymore. 

‘This year is going to be fun!’ he laughed, throwing himself into one of the carriage seats and crashing his feet onto the other side, looking at her with what could only be described as...a smirk!

* * *

Notes: So this is a story I have been thinking about for a while and, being new to this site, I wanted to explore it with you. Please let me know what you think and please give me suggestions of any kind, I am so open to anything!


	2. Chapter 2

She must have gone back to sleep, for when she opened her eyes again the early morning sun; faint and wispy, had been replaced by hot streams of light billowing into their bedroom. She sat up, feeling a faint kick inside and let her head fall back, a shallow breath escaping her lips as she cradled her abdomen and slipped her feet into the slippers that sat by her bedside. Lifting herself she pottered towards the windows, opening the shutters slowly to see, what she had already expected to be, a beautiful day.

Turning, she caught sight of herself in the same mirror where he had looked at himself that morning. She had to admit that she was a pure contrast to him in every way imaginable. Where he was all points, angles and hardness she was all soft and curvy, curls too big to even manage effectively. And at this present moment, being the size of a beluga whale, the curves were almost too much to stare at. ‘Your exquisite’ came to mind, the words he used every evening when he stepped through the fireplace, a smile erupting from his usually thin, stiff lips. She flicked her eyes away, unable to accept the compliment and sauntered towards the door and precariously made her way downstairs, ready to gorge herself on chocolate pancakes.

And there it was, as it had been every day since her work break began - the note on the mantle of the fireplace; neatly folded and her name scrawled across it in emerald green ink. She stood at the bottom of the stairs, hand gently balanced on the banister, staring at the note as if it were her greatest enemy. She knew he meant well by leaving them, he always had, but their brief nature and loving words could not contend with hands and kisses. She sighed, unblinking as she moved towards it, tore it from the mantle and opened to see his handwriting. ‘I will make dinner tonight, love! Please, I beg you, anything but pink!’ She smiled against her will, folding the note neatly back over and dropping it into the note box she had bought back in their final year when they had started to arrive. It had always been notes with him.

Her hand moved absentmindedly back to her stomach as she muttered. ‘Anything but pink, love!’

* * *

She had sat with a face that could only be described as a slapped arse, for the length of the journey to Hogwarts, her eyes trained at the glass in the window attempting not to look at his stunning reflection. That was the most irritating thing about him; she agreed with her mind, she was beyond annoyed with every fibre of her body and could feel the wrath she wanted to open upon him coursing through her veins, but he was so damn attractive.

Sitting there in his green Slytherin robes, tie loosely hanging from his neck, jumper slightly rumpled from his seated position, she wanted to take it all off and digest him. She had wanted to since the trial, even before, since seeing him in Grimmauld Place, maybe even earlier. No! She shook her head slightly. She needed to wake up. She knew he was attractive and he always had been but she knew you couldn’t just erase 6 years of bad blood on someone’s looks, no matter how much their spy work had bought them.

To give him his credit, he also sat silently for the train journey and did not seem fussed that his travelling companion was Granger herself, instead he immediately pulled out a textbook and began to read it, crunching down on a particularly green apple he had pulled from his satchel. She had managed to glance over at the textbook a few times and had felt her insides squirm with jealousy as he read a first edition copy of her favourite book ‘Hogwarts: A History’. She assumed he must have known this as he looked at her over the book and smirked at her, raising his eyebrow in a fairly suggestive and inappropriate manner.

After the trolley had come around with food, they both headed off to the Prefects compartment to talk to their existing and new prefects about the duties this year and what they would be responsible for. Hermione did feel a pang of guilt and a nervous energy ran through her and down her spine, making her hair stand on end. She had only ever seen this speech twice before as a prefect and each time had been completely different. Yes, the Head Boy and Girl always spoke about pride and unity, but this year she felt there was an extra burden on both of their shoulders that seemed to resonate the impending dread that unity was going to be difficult, especially with Malfoy as Head Boy. She knew he was innocent but the rest of the student body would need convincing, or at least would need reminding.

_ ‘Trail number 173, Draco Malfoy vs. The Wizarding State of the United Kingdom.’ The voice was heard over the tannoy and she watched him step forward, flanked by three of the best lawyers Galleons could buy. From her seat in the public gallery, she could see the faint lines of worry across his face and could see that the knuckles gripping his trial folder were white.  _

_ ‘First witness - Mr Harry Potter.’ the voice continued. _

_ As expected, a shudder of whispered excitement flooded the dark courtroom as Harry stood and slowly made his way to the witness stand. She thought he looked so large up there, so confident and in charge of business and she could already hear the frantic quills of reporters taking down notes about the witness development. She could read the news in her mind; ‘Harry Potter, The Chosen One…’, ‘a surprising witness for the defense, The Chosen one’, ‘Golden Boy playing the hero for once Death Eater Draco Malfoy!’ and she sneered at her own mind. She saw Harry make eye contact with Draco and make a small, almost undetectable nod towards him; he took a deep breath in and waited for the Wizenagamot to begin the questioning. _

_ ‘Mr Potter, are you aware that Mr Malfoy is a known servant of Lord Voldermort, understood as a Death Eater upon his taking of the Dark Mark in the summer of his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?’ a prim woman of around 40 asked him. _

_ ‘Yes I am!’ he said calmly. ‘I would also like it made clear that in this matter, Mr Malfoy was an underage wizard and so not responsible for his taking of the mark.’ The witch seemed irritated by this clear and fluent answer and so immediately began her next line of questioning. _

_ ‘And are you also aware that Mr Malfoy, as well as being involved in the committal of several known war crimes, is also responsible for the entrance of Death Eaters into Hogwarts Castle and was a known aid to the death of Albus Dumbledore?’ she continued. _

_ ‘I am aware that he is responsible for letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but as public record will show, the arrangement of death between Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape has already been declared and so no responsibility can fall on others!’ Harry stated.  _

_ She could see the flicker of fear behind his eyes under the scrutiny. He was rehearsed, well rehearsed in fact due to her tutoring but she knew how important this moment was for both him and Malfoy. The whispers, that had fallen silent upon the first question, threatened to erupt once more as he stood there. _

_ ‘Mr Potter, ‘ started another member of the Wizenagamot, a short and stout man with an overly large moustache. ‘You have been called as a witness today as we believe you have information to divulge into the involvement of Draco Malfoy towards the end of the war.’ _

_ ‘Yes,’ said Harry, he pulled down his jacket and quietly cleared his throat. ‘I want it known and stated as a matter of public record that shortly before the end of the war, Draco Malfoy and his mother Narcissa Malfoy, turned themselves over to The Order of the Phoenix.’ _

_ ‘Let it be stated for the record that The Order of the Phoenix to which Mr Potter refers is the underground resistance fight instrumental in winning the war!’ hurried one of Draco’s lawyers. Hermione saw Harry take a very slow breath to steady his nerves. _

_ ‘In this, not only did they present themselves but also a countless amount of information, names, locations and curses that proved instrumental to the movements that lead to the success at both the Battle of Hogwarts and the war itself. It is my opinion that without this information, we would have lost the war and lost all wizarding freedom. I personally owe my life to Mr Malfoy for his brave actions in the assault at Malfoy Manor, my life and the lives of those that I and now the wizarding world hold dear are safe because of him.’ she saw his shoot a glance in her direction. ‘I would like it known that Mr Malfoy has made amends for his deeds and that his character shows that of resilience and bravery and I want it known that he has my full support in all current and future matters!’ Harry's voice was louder than Hermione had ever heard it in his last sentence, it rumbled through the room like a lion's roar and she smiled at his commitment. _

_ ‘Thank you Mr Potter!’ a member said and Harry stepped down. _

_ It was a long afternoon and there were witnesses called who were both in favour of Malfoy, but also against him. It seemed to Hermione that the day would never end and her hair, which had been pinned back into a neat and tight bun at the beginning of the events, was threatening to break loose as small curls fell victim to the heat of the courtroom. _

_ And suddenly, Draco Malfoy was once against standing and waiting for his charges to be read and his verdict announced. She did not know whether it was a good sign or not, but the Wizenagamot had only been out of session for an hour to discuss the evidence and she could see from the twitch in Draco’s mouth that he was not quite prepared for what he was about to hear. As she watched him, she felt a pang of sadness come across her; a fellow Hogwarts student caught on the wrong side of what appeared to be an unending war, forced into servitude to someone not nearly a man and made to think, do and bear unspeakable horrors. If it had not been for his actions to call Dobby to the Manor, to refuse to reveal Harry’s identity and his wordless release charms, the horrors that she had endured that night would have been fatal. She glanced down to her left arm, covered with her blouse, and thought about the word that was etched across her skin, her shame and her pride. _

_ ‘Mr Malfoy, you have been charged with the crime of being a Death Eater, a servant to Lord Voldermort and an aid in all war crimes committed under his reign of terror. You have pleaded Not Guilty. Due to the testimony heard here today, the insurmountable evidence and your own plea, the Wizenagamot has found you….’ there was a deafening pause and Hermione could hear her heartbeat in her ears. She did not like him, he may have been cruel and a bully, but of these charges he was innocent. _

_ ‘...Not Guilty!’ and the courtroom erupted in talking and she saw Draco bend over, grip the edge of the table in front of him and hang his head. _

  
  


‘Do you want to free flow this talk or are we going to have a tete a tete before we go in?’ This question brought her out of thoughts and back to the present day where she found him glaring at her as they stood in the corridor outside of the prefect's carriage.

‘Erm….I hadn’t thought about it!’ she said in a small voice, catching his eye for a second. She noticed that he very quickly broke eye contact, as if unable to look at her at all. She didn’t want to dwell on the thought but it lingered in the back of her mind, an earworm playing the tune of ‘Mudblood, Mudblood!’. He signed, looking out the countryside beyond the train windows.

‘How about, you start!’ she suggested. ‘You do the welcome and the responsibilities talk and I will do the hard bit!’ she finished.

‘Hard bit?’ he inquired, making eye contact again for longer than a second. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as she looked into his grey eyes. She could only compare them to a sea after a storm, all weathered and painful, memories hidden in their depths.

‘Well, McGonagall mentioned in her letter that now was the time for more unity than ever, in school and out. Let's be honest Malfoy - I am more the poster girl for that behaviour and with my endorsement, you might make it out of this carriage alive.’ he smiled at him. 

She hadn’t meant to sound so sarcastic, so cruel. She had meant to sound supportive and knowing what he had been through this summer with every Auror under the sun in his house from dawn until dusk, somewhat friendly. But what had occured was an insult and she saw his jaw grind as his facial expression closed off and he looked away, shaking his head. It was a long moment before he laid his hand on the door to the compartment and spoke.

‘Fine!’ he simply stated as he turned the handle and walked in.

The prefects this year were an odd bunch of students, owing to the fact that this was the first year in Hogwarts’ history where an eighth year of study would be permitted. As such, there were seventh and eighth years staring up at them as they both entered and waited for silence to fall. This may have been the first time the prefects were seeing them together as Head Boy and Girl but they all looked at Hermione with glee, well the Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws did, the Slytherins just smiled politely and some rolled their eyes. It was the looks that Draco got that stopped her tracks. Of course it was public knowledge that he had turned spy and helped them win the war, but that did not stop the lifetime grudges that she was sure would emerge.

‘Good afternoon everyone!’ Draco started ‘As Head Boy I would like to welcome you as Prefects this year and congratulate you on your reappointment. Both Miss Granger and I wanted to impress upon you the responsibility and honour that has been bestowed upon you and that we are very much looking forward to working with you this year!’

She was staring at him with what she could only describe as admiration. He was there and could so obviously see all the looks he was being given but with respect and bravery he was ploughing on with words. Did he look particularly approachable? No. Did he seem warm and truthful in his words? Not really. But his message to them was clear. He continued on, telling them about duties, their powers and how he and Hermione would be working on the rota for the first week of rounds and it would be delivered to them over the weekend. As he went on, his deep voice echoing around the compartment, she took a mental register of who was in attendance, who she knew would be great and who she would need to keep an eye on. Usually there would have been six prefects in each house, but because of the war there were so many students not returning that there was an odd number, some students she knew very well and others she was seeing, almost for the first time.

Ginny and Neville sat nearest to her, their Prefect badges shiny and scarlet and gold on their uniforms. It had been a clear choice really, they had both done so much for Hogwarts over the past year. It had been surprising that Neville was not given Head Boy but Hermione was sure that McGonagall had her reasons. Ginny had also been named Quidditch Captain and so her year was bound to be immensely busy. The other Gryffindor prefects were sixth years Lilac Evergreen and Michael Spindle. Next to Ginny sat Luna and Anthony Goldstein, Ravenclaws resident seventh year with William Beehive, a nervous looking fifth year with dirty blonde hair. Huffepuff’s prefects were staring absently at each other and around at the other students in the room; Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbot, former members of the DA were sitting and ignoring Draco intensely while Jonathan Stratt and Cyril Meaken watched him with curiosity. The prefects hanging on Draco’s every word, whether in jest or not, were that of his own house. His good friends Blaise Zabini, son of the famous wizarding model, Theodore Nott, disowned son of the infamous Death Eater and Pansy Parkinson, Draco’s overly attentive girlfriend.

She quickly noticed that Draco had turned his head and was looking at her out of the corner of his eye. She was up.

‘Thanks Malfoy!’ she started. ‘So as Draco has said there are a lot of responsibilities being a Prefect but this year I know is going to be an uphill battle. Professor McGonagall wants us to remind you all that this year, now more than ever before, we are to be leaders in promoting inter-house unity and peace. The students attending Hogwarts this year are broken, grieving…’ she paused to still her own beating heart as the words were almost stuck in her throat. 

‘And...and…’ she took a deep breath, steading herself. 

‘And this year, they will turn to you for support. Some may act out, some may not know where to turn, but it is your job to find and help those in need. If any of you have any ideas on how we might promote inter-house unity please come and see me or Draco at any time to talk about it - we are more than willing to hear any ideas. I would also like to let you know that the first prefects meeting is Sunday afternoon in the Head’s common room and we both look forward to seeing you there. Enjoy the rest of your journey.’

‘Um...sorry!’ piped up Anthony as they made to leave. ‘But can I just ask what the hell he is doing as Head Boy.’ At this point, the veritable tension in the compartment broke and Theodore stood up in defense.

‘What do you mean by that Goldstein?’ he shot venom from his tongue. ‘What makes you think you have the right to judge anyone!’

‘Well...it’s just that we all know he is...kind of a bad guy!’ stuttered Hannah, not daring to make eye contact with anything but her shoes.

Hermione’s eyes flickered to Draco and she could see the tension in his jaw but his face was surprisingly relaxed. There was no snide remark, no wordless hex, no instructions to his goons. He was calm and composed, taking in deep breath he went to speak but Hermione got there first.

‘Thank you for your glorious opinions Anthony, Hannah. Nott you can take a seat.’ her voice was dripping in sarcasm and to her own surprise, anger. ‘I am pretty sure I just spoke about inter-house unity, could you not have tried to display it for a mere minute. And in terms of Draco’s appointment, that is a decision made only by Professor McGonagall and if you would like to try and convince her otherwise, I am sure you will find yourself sorely disappointed and embarrassed. Your own opinion of your fellow prefects and head’s should remain silent unless they are pleasant and complimentary. Draco has been named a war hero by many, and whether or not you agree, your place is to stay silent. I am sure I can count on you all for that.’

And with that they left. Neither of them made eye contact or spoke as they made their way to Heads carriage. When they did their rounds, they silently moved through the train, nodding to students they knew. She watched him as he stalked from carriage to carriage, his shoulders back with pride but she sensed a tension there she had not sensed before the prefects' meeting. It was a tension she continued to notice when she watched him across the Great Hall at dinner and when he directed his prefects to lead the first years to the dormitories.

She did not see him again until the tapestry parted on her command at the Head’s Common room and he was seated on one of the dark material sofas in front of a fireplace. His robes and jumper removed, he was sat in his white shirt and grey trousers, his top button undone. She could see he had rolled up the sleeve of his right arm but the left remained down and buttoned to the eyes of the world. He looked up when she entered, acknowledged her silently with a curt nod but then went back to reading his first edition, seemingly enthralled by its yellowing pages. 

She glanced around and took in the view of working tables, bookshelves laden with allegorical treasure and a range of sofas and armchairs. The colour scheme of scarlet and green was heavy, obviously redecorated to show the heads houses each year. She passed him, looking at his arms as she went, the only bit of skin she had seen out of uniform, his skin as pale there as it was elsewhere. She could also see the trailing of a faint scar threatening to poke out of the edges of his sleeve, white and thin. A question on her lips pushed to the back of her mind for another time perhaps, or another life.

She trudged her way up the stairs to her left, she assumed it was hers as the drapes were a deep scarlet and she was correct when the door at the top read ‘Hermione Granger Head Girl’. She pushed it open to see a room similar to all her previous dormitories with the main difference of it being a lot smaller than before, only having one bed and an ensuite bathroom. She walked into it to see an adjoining door, she guessed which led to Draco’s room. Brilliant - she thought to herself - shared bathroom. She was exhausted and ready to collapse onto her bed, when she saw a small folded piece of paper lying on her pillow with her name drawn across it in emerald ink. She picked it up, opening it and stood frozen by the words she saw there.

‘You called me Draco - more than once. I can’t wait to hear it again. Try not to catch a horrible boyfriend out of this one Granger.’

* * *

Notes - Thank you to the readers who have already given me Kudos on my first chapter - my heart is filled with joy and thanks.

I hope that this chapter is enjoyable and opens up a little more on the story and how some of it does not strictly follow canon. Please leave me a comment, I love reading them!


	3. Chapter 3

Padding gently over their thick cream carpet, she made her way to the kitchen, possibly the one room in the house she did not spend much time in. Contrary to what Harry and Ron had thought in the months spent in the tent, she was not one for cooking and hated spending a lot of time there; it was always too cold, too calculating and harsh when alone. She smiled at the thoughts of the times she did spend in here with him, wearing nothing but his shirt, buttons open to reveal too much skin and sitting on the worktop with him between her thighs, gently sucking melted chocolate off his finger. She groaned internally; there was no chance of her being able to get up onto the counter in her state without a forklift truck, no matter how much he protested to that fact.

The kitchen was his room, his domain and he was surprisingly good at it, and she was unsurprisingly fast in offering up control of it. She could always rely on him to keep their fridge stocked with delectable items for her to devour and every dinner he made her was always sumptuous, packed with spice and warmth. The first time he had made her a proper meal, he had been so nervous, uncharacteristically so, that he had spent the entire time watching her eat and asking her repeatedly if it was okay and whether or not she liked it. He had been overly talkative, strange when she had spent so long with the silent suffering type. She felt incredibly lucky to have him at a time like this, when she felt too heavy to cook but in a constant state of ravenous desire.

As predicted, he had left her an overly large stack of chocolate chip pancakes on the kitchen side, protected with a slow warming charm. She grinned, walking to the far corner of their marble sided kitchen to shove her hand in the cookie jar to take out three of oatmeal raisins he had made her yesterday and placed them on top of her pancakes. Sauntering over the freezer she opened it to see, with delight, it stacked with her favourite ice cream flavours and a very serious looking note that read ‘No love! Not until after lunch!’ which she mischievously ignored. Grabbing a pint of raspberry she pried off the lid to reveal another, even more serious looking note that read ‘I said no love!’ which she, again, ignored and took three big spoonfuls of, piling it next to the pancakes. 

Looking down at her plate, her insides grew warm thinking about all the times he had made her food and how important it was for him to show him he cared. He had said from early on in their strange friendship that apologising was something he found very difficult, she had always known him to be closed and deeply private and she had been able to catch on quickly that whenever he felt bad about something, freshly baked goods would often appear. When she reflected on it, it also made her realise how often that was, as she had been able to maintain a pretty good figure throughout their relationship...until now.

She slumped down on their large red sofa, fork in one hand and her ancient runes translation notes in the other as her plate rested on her swollen belly. No time like the present to work when she was meant to be resting. He was not going to be happy.

* * *

‘And that is all for today’s meeting.’ she smiled at her group of Prefects as they all sta rted to gather up their things and make a move to their own dormitories. 

‘Please do not forget to take your week's duty rota with you,’ drawled Draco, sounding incredibly bored, from the table to her right where he has spent the majority of the meeting poring over his charms essay. ‘Granger and I do not want to be chasing you around because you are missing duty. It may have escaped your notice but we are both extremely busy!’

Hermione rolled her eyes as she handed the rota’s out, taking extra precaution to hand one to Parkinson, who had spent her duty last week apparently shagging Michael Corner in a deserted corridor - well that was what Draco told her when she asked him about it.

Being Head Girl was really nothing like she had imagined it, there was definitely more telling off of other prefects than making headway into her inter-house unity plans then originally thought. She had admonished herself initially, telling herself that her prefects needed some time to settle back into the ways of school and that they may have needed a bit of fun now and again. But now three weeks into term she was becoming more annoyed with them than she could stand and she knew that the next person she had to chase around the school would be getting the brunt of all her aggravation.

She was just grateful that over the first few weeks of the term, she had not had to worry about Draco - Malfoy not Draco- not fulfilling his duties. She had admittedly, and thinking back somewhat guilty, had the notion that he would take his new role and abuse his power. She knew those thoughts came from somewhere real, having watched him for almost half his life but at the end of their first week, found herself surprised by her Head Boy’s newfound responsible persona. She had often seen him shirk off his friends in favour of a study session, not that this had been surprising with his grades always being rather excellent, but they had begged and pleaded with him to join them on a scheme or two, and he had still shook his head apologetically and left. He has also been very strict with them over their prefect duties - Pansy being a good example of this. She had found them in the Head's Common room after the incident, him bearing down upon her with a fierce look as she looked more like a petulant teenager than ever before.

‘Sometimes Malfoy I would appreciate it if you led a meeting...and if you didn’t do your homework while I am giving announcements,’ she leant a hand on his table and waited for him to look up at her. When he did there was a smirk playing across his lips, his expression softened since their train journey.She had noticed more recently that he held his stares, almost as if daring her to look away first. She would not submit to that.

‘Granger, you had the meeting in hand - what was I going to chip in, Death Eater curses!’ he smiled sarcastically at her. ‘Plus, not all of us have such an easy time studying as you do!’

He began to pile up his work, leaving it on the table to resume the following day as he usually did. They had found that living in the same space had not been as unbearable as they both might imagine. Their bathroom schedule had been worked out pretty quickly after the first morning of her banging on the door for 10 minutes to use the shower, and since they had realised that they both spent most evenings studying, so silence was the call of the hour. He walked around her, moving towards his staircase, she rolled her eyes.

‘Bollocks Malfoy! You are my main competition and you know it - like it even!’

‘Oh bad girl using those naughty words on me!’ his eyebrows we raised as he turned back slowly to look at her, feigning shock on his face. She felt a small blush cover her cheeks and a warm sensation move across her lower abdomen. Shaking off the feeling she continued to spar with him.

‘Oh leave it! You are running the next meeting and that is final!’

‘Whatever you say Princess!’ he smiled at her, sarcastically saluting her as he turned and walked up to this room, she did not catch him leaning subtly over the balcony to watch her.

She dropped into the armchair by the fire, rubbing her temples to ease the ache that she had begun to feel, begging herself not to be overwhelmed by both the slowly building stress and the ebbing heat in her body. They battled like this approximately once a week and although it was good conversation and a great way for her to practice her sparring, she did miss genuine evening chatter. Of course, she sometimes made her way up to the Gryffindor Tower to sit and speak with Ginny and Neville, finding out about their days and worries. Hearing them spar and bicker like her and Ron was always great entertainment. She would always get a letter from Harry or Ron that she would drink hungrily, searching the words for hidden meanings and secrets they were longing to tell her but they were always too brief. She would send them pages, detailing her life here and feelings about her new role. Perhaps they were busy now that their training was over and their missions had begun. She would be sure to ask them on their Hogsmeade visit in a few weeks time. But, no matter how much she tried to distract herself, she could not shake the aching feeling for companionship she had grown so used to over the past year.

They had warned her that it would be like this, different and, much to her chagrin and dismay, Ron had been right. There were no slight touches, no hugs or warm breaths on her like when the three of them would sit too close or fall asleep together. During the day she wandered lonely to her classes, sitting through lessons and answering questions thinking about her practical use of the magic she had already been privy to. Every spell brought a memory than she clung to, even if it was painful. She sat in the warmth of the common room in the evening, listening to the crackling fire and remembering cold nights in a drafty tent with nothing but a jar fire to keep them warm and at night. The silent staring by her fellow Head not helping the absence of whispered eye contact. And she awoke to terrible nightmares of the horrors she had seen, her hair stuck to her with cold sweat, remembering the nights that she and Ron would take it in turns to watch Harry and keep him safe with everything they had.

_ She heard it before she saw it, the slight changes in his breathing pattern, the twitchy movements of the sheets and the low guttural noises that always sounded like they were coming from deep within his soul. She pulled her head up from her own pillow across the room and dragged herself from under the thin duvet, shaking off the light sleep she was so accustomed to and, rearranging her jumper as she went, quickly moved to sit on the small steps that led to the eating area by the head of his camp bed. She heard the tent door shudder and looked up to see Ron’s concerned face appear there, he must have heard it from his watch; they were so intune with each other, but she smiled and shook her head in a way of telling him she had this one. His face was marred by a slight disappointment as he withdrew but she shook it off. It had not been long since he had returned and whether he liked it or not, Hermione and Harry had formed a routine and knowing that he hadn’t slipped back into yet. _

_ She could feel the cold heartbeat of the locket against her chest and slowly removed it, slipping it in her pocket to better have a clear mind to deal with him, care for him. When they had first started their journey, Harry used to put up silencing charms around his bed to try to not wake anyone up, it had not been until she had woken to see him crying in silence that she had understood what was happening. Both herself and Ron had a very serious conversation with him the following day, one that had included a lot of tears from her, about how he could trust them to save him rather than trust himself to deal with it. Since then, they had been waking to comfort him. _

_ Harry’s movements started to become more erratic, so she took his hand gently and moved her hand through his hair to calm him down. His eyes shot open, his whole body tense as he took in his surroundings and she saw his hand move to his wand under the covers, laying eyes on her however; he visibly relaxed and let out a long sigh. She could tell that he always preferred her to wake him up then Ron, he was all awkward and heavy handed, always trying to work out the best way to wake him but nervous to touch him and desperately trying not to blush in the process, but she would just sit there while he came back to earth. One day maybe he would prefer Ron, but for now Hermione was fine and she drank in his need with fervour.  _

_ If there was anything good to come out of their time spent wandering the endless countryside, it was their friendship; comfortable and safe. Hermione always loved the quiet moments and overtly long eye contact with her two best friends. It always felt they could communicate without words, something she knew would have been handy countless times in the common room; a time now that felt like a past life. _

_ Harry turned on his side, to look at her while she absently continued to stroke her fingers through his hair, until his breathing had returned to normal and she was able to drop her hand to her side and watch him with a small smile. _

_ ‘Want to talk about it?’ she asked softly. He just shook his head, not making eye contact with her but his eyes wandering down to her neck and chest. If other boys had looked at her like that, she knew the feelings it would arouse in her, but with either of them, it never did. _

_ ‘Where is it?’ he asked her in a monotone voice, it was obvious he was working incredibly hard on keeping it steady. _

_ ‘In my pocket!’ she confirmed and again, they sat silently. _

_ The noise at the tent door returned as Ron came back inside, looked at the two of them and came to sit in front of her on the floor, dragging a cushion from his own bunk to sit on. Harry sat up on his elbow, intent to listen to his friend. Hermione watched the two boys as they interacted; easy and subtle. Pulling their eyes over each other with a secret that neither of them knew yet. Maybe it was living in such close quarters with each other that the lines were blurred, which would explain the amount of times she had fallen asleep in either of their arms after a particularly bad night, but she sensed something more about them that they were not ready to commit to just yet. _

_ ‘Know what I thought about today?’ he asked them, after what felt like a lifetime of silence, with a grin on his face.  _

_ ‘By all means Ronald, enlighten us!’ she jeered at him. _

_ ‘That deathday party we went to, with all that rotten food and really weird ghost tension!’ he laughed at himself and the thought made Hermione giggle. _

_ ‘I think that food was still better than Hermione’s!’ Harry joked and received a small punch in the arm from Hermione, he looked fake hurt as she also burst into laughter. _

_ ‘That wasn’t nearly as bad as nearly getting eaten by Fluffy or burnt alive by Norbert!’ she reproached.  _

_ ‘Speak for yourself Hermione - I have been bitten by a dog that turned out to be a human, wrapped in strange octopus legs and lived to see the scars and now am suffering with mild food poisoning every day until you learn to read a cookbook.’ _

_ ‘Which is seemingly the only book our beautiful friends has yet to lay her hands on’ quipped Harry. _

_ She huffed as Harry burst into laughter, grabbing the cushion from under Ron, she threw it as his head. She looked at them both with a glare that could set anything on fire but they would not leave her to it. They spent hours laughing about their school adventures, wondering how they did not get expelled and mimicking all the things that she had ever lectured them about. It was only when she found herself yawning that Ron had decided to go back to his watch. _

_ ‘Go to bed Hermione!’ he smiled at her as he looked over his shoulder. _

_ ‘Coming in?’ Harry asked and she looked to see that he had moved over to create some room for her. Slipping in beside him, his arms wrapped protectively around her and she nestled her face into his chest. It only took Harry mere minutes to fall back asleep, he always found it easier with something in his arms and she had followed him soon after. She had awoken hours later to find the other boy nestled in behind her, sleeping the way they had so often in this tent, with comfort and safety. _

‘Granger I need answers’ he snarled as she looked up from her Transfiguration notes.

He had her cornered on her table. She looked around for a route of escape if the conversation turned nasty, a habit she had learned in the tent on days where Ron was wearing the locket. Without seeing an out, she signed and placed her quill down, attempting to feign uninterest at the sound of his voice. Making eye contact she notices his usual storm weathered eyes were a piercing steely grey, iris’ half blown with intent.

‘Look at your textbook for answers!’ she replied,sarcasm dripping from her tongue. She was not in the mood for a sparring match tonight. She saw his jaw tighten in an effort to stop himself from biting back at her.

‘I am talking about the blatant social distancing that you have been inflicting upon yourself all week!’ he spat at her, with a strange sense of care behind the steel of his eyes.

‘Social distancing?’ she laughed it off, knowing that he may have noticed her more than she would like to admit. ‘I have been busy, Malfoy. It may have escaped your clear notice, but I am planning the next meeting and trying to keep up with assignments.’

‘Granger!’ he growled dropping into the chair opposite her. ‘I have the same duties as you have. I am not the one stalking around these hallowed halls by myself, shirking off people and slamming books down on antique tables!’

She looked at him incredulously. ‘Keeping an incredibly close eye on me there Malfoy!’ she raised her eyes as he quickly responded.

‘How am I supposed to adequately discharge my duties if my own Head Girl is off moping about something? Either tell me or get over it! This may surprise you, but I do not enjoy spending all my evenings with a non-communicative bookworm!’ He spat at her.

The words dug at her as she flared her nostrils and eyed him dangerously. Maybe she had expected this conversation to take a different turn although at this moment she did not want to bare herself to him. How can you tell someone that you know has been raised to despise your entire existence, that you are more lonely than you have ever been in your whole life? How can she be vulnerable in front of him when they had only just learnt to be civil? She could feel the tears pricking at the back of her eyes and knew better than to hang around until they spilled over in front of him, so she rose curtly from her chair, quickly piling her work and going to push past him. She stood next to him, looked down and said.

‘Fine! I will just have to get over it!’ in a tone that showed only anger and then stormed up to her room, ignoring him calling ‘Granger!’ after her as his chair was thrown back.

She sat on her bed, breathing heavily as the tears that had threatened broke free from their barrier and careered silently down her cheeks. She wiped them away in disgust, annoyed that she had let him get to her like that. Even more annoyed that he had tried to show some semblance of care towards her - if it was under the guise of their ever pressing duties towards their fellow student body. She thought about their brief conversation for the rest of the evening, while she changed into her pajamas, while she read her evening book; this week being dedicated to ‘The Princess Bride’ by William Goldman and settled into a light and restless sleep she knew would end in a particularly nasty nightmare.

She was, however, awoken before this with a horrible feeling in the pit of her stomach, a prickle of goosebumps running along her forearms. She initially shook it off, turning over and burying her face on the pillow, feeling used to her heightened senses since her previous year of fighting. But then she heard it; the heavy shifting of sheets and breath hitched in a sore throat. She would usually be getting up and walking straight to the noise, to a lightning scarred friend, but she was still and silent waiting for another sign that she was needed. And she heard it, a small groan of discomfort, so she rose from her bed, her wand in her hand shaking slightly and walked slowly towards the bathroom door, her heart beating against her ribs like a bass drum. Then a scream, a yell so piercing and heartbreaking that she tore through the door, through the white glimmering bathroom and yanked his door open, stopping dead mere inches into the room.

She took him in, almost drinking the sight. The scream had woken him and he was bolt upright in bed, his chest heaving from the heavy effort to catch his breath. His skin, paler than she could have imagined it, was glistening in a slight sheen of sweat that covered his shirtless torso. The torso she dragged her eyes over, noting the multitude of scars that lay over his taught and pearly skin. His head had snapped to look at her as she had burst in, his wand was pointed at her shaking as hers was in her sweaty palm. They must have stared at each other like this for a full minute before he slowly lowered his wand to his side and he blinked slowly, taking a slow, steadying breath, his lips achingly parted and swollen.

‘Sorry!’ he spoke first, quiet and husky next to his loud shallow breathing. ‘I usually cast a silencing charm, I must have forgotten’ he muttered, not breaking the piercing eye contact he was making.

‘It’s okay”’ she replied. And again they fell into a silence, both their breathing loud and filling the vacant area with noise.

‘War reflexes?’ he asked with a slightly raised eyebrow, his glance gazing to her wild hair and then her wand in her own hand. She may have seen his gaze linger for longer over her left forearm than she would have liked, but she did not dare say anything to that.

‘Harry reflexes!’ she confirmed and saw a sense of understanding wash over his features.

She, once again, let her gaze wander over him more freely than she would have normally dared, not that now was the time to be thinking such things, but he was still completely attractive. His muscles tense and large and she felt the familiar sensation of blush creep across her face, her eyes landing on his left arm, the mark brandished there was dark in contrast to him. It took her a long time to pull her eyes back to meet him, offer him a small smile and then, turning, spoke.

‘Well, goodnight Malfoy!’

And she left, shutting his door and making small steps across the bathroom to shut her door behind her and collapse against it, her breath stuck in her chest as she thought about him. Her legs weak from the thoughts flashing in her brain, she slid slowly down the door until she rested on the floor and ran a hand through her untamable hair. She tried to shake away the feelings that enveloped her, the heat and wanton lust that fired through her veins. She dragged herself to bed but found it much harder to sleep for the rest of the night, tossing and turning with dreams of him rather than the manor.

When she had emerged ready for class the next day and made her way down the common room, he was nowhere to be found, a conversation she was dying to have with him playing upon her lips. But what did catch her eyes was a mysterious plate resting on the coffee table in front of the fire, piled high with what appeared to be gently steaming chocolate chip cookies. Her eyebrows furrowed as she walked up to them, drinking in the luxurious smell of chocolate. As she stared at them, a piece of parchment floated down and she turned to see him on the top of the balcony outside his bedroom door; her heart skipping a beat at the sight of him fully dressed, prim and proper. He was leaning against the banister, arms slightly folded. He raised an eyebrow as she picked up the note, reading in emerald green;‘They aren’t poison.’ She chuckled to herself as she turned to pick one up, facing him again and lifting the cookie slowly to her lips. She could have sworn a flicker ran across his face, of what she did not know, but his lips parted slightly as if he too were lifting one to his mouth. His eyes were locked onto hers, his breath visible under his white shirt and his fingers suddenly gripping the edge of the banister, his knuckles the same colour she had seen during his trial.

Biting into the treat, her senses were overcome by its heavenly taste and she made a small moan of appreciation while still locked onto him. He smirked at her, letting out a small sigh and stood up to his full height, slowly turning and heading back into his room. For all he didn’t know, Hermione had maybe just had the most erotic moment of unwanted foreplay in her life.

* * *

Notes - I got my inspiration from this while I was baking yesterday and wanted so much to show a side of Draco that no one would expect. 

Thank you all for your kind comments and kudos, I am blown over by the responses.


	4. Chapter 4

Her eyes drove up to the clock adorned on the brown and cream wallpaper; his choice of soft palate he said would make everything seem more homely. She had lost count of the amount of times he mentioned the lack of comfort growing up, and from her experiences at his family home, could only fervently agree. She watched the second hand tick slowly over to 2 o'clock and let out a slow breath, stretching out her neck on the arm of the sofa. She placed her notes on the coffee table next to the ashamedly empty plate from her sugary breakfast and gritted her teeth. She had not been able to manage any translations that morning and the thought made her irate beyond control; she could feel the magic pulsing through her veins, until a small kick brought her back to reality. With a smile she placed her hand where she had felt the movement and uttered an apologetic ‘Okay, I get it!’

She rose from her deft imprint on the sofa to wander the track of the living room, her bare feet padding the same path they did every day around this time. She had grown accustomed to wandering over her lifetime, this just seemed to be a new routine, a new path for her legs to take her. The movement always helped her mind to focus and relax, and over the past 24 hours, had done wonders to ease the small ebbing ache she had felt in her lower back. She had tried, last night, to get him to massage her but he had fallen asleep as soon as his angelic coloured hair had hit the feathers. She groaned at the mental image of him laid out on their pure white sheets, his arms freely and unabashedly above his head in the image of a dancing slave girl, his pale stomach slowly rising and falling with every breath he took. 

She ran her hands absently over the bookshelves that adorned the walls along her journey around the room, letting the pads of her fingertips become explorers on the bound leather there. The craters, the rips, the lettering; all had a different story to tell about her collection - their collection. It had been the only thing she had insisted on when they had bought their home and he had taken control as redecorator in charge; that as many rooms as possible were covered in floor to ceiling bookshelves for her to moon over at opportune moments. The stacks were full of a range of literature; textbooks, magical manuals, exploratory titles and a few choice Muggle works. Luckily for her, the library had been a passion that they had both shared for some years, and a place full of secret moments hat they had grown to cherish.

Unfortunately, she did not have much time to ponder fond memories as a noise from the fireplace grate inclined her to a visitor's arrival and she turned to see a green eyed, spectacled friend looking her up and down, soot covering his almost perfect nose. He moved forwards to plant a soft kiss on her cheek and a large hand protectively across her belly, the chill of the gold ring on his left hand seeping through her thin pyjama top. When he withdrew he smiled and she offered him a coffee, which he immediately scorned her for offering and went to get himself.

* * *

‘I’m embarrassed!’ Malfoy hurriedly muttered in her direction, with a hint of fervour catching in his throat. 

They had been walking in silence on their patrols, currently stalking through the tapestry walled fourth floor. It had been four days since the night-time incident and, much to her chagrin, he had not spoken a word of the incident and the cookies had been finished quickly by the two of them, also unmentioned on their lips. The air hanging between them as they had pulled back hidden passageways and broom closet doors had been tense. They moved between the portraits with silence hanging on every breath, arms inches away from each other as they strolled side by side. Hermione had been certain the entire patrol would be like this, until the words came tumbling out of his mouth like a loose bludger. 

‘Embarrassed?’ she repeated, almost pushing him to inform her she had misheard. But all she got in response was a heavy sigh and another minute of deafening silence. She bit her tongue in an effort to not push him, a trick she had learnt when attempting to pull information out of Harry; which she measured was akin to getting blood from a stone.

He stopped in his tracks next to her, causing her to falter a step, as he turned to stare at her. The corridor was only lit by torchlight and the faint glow of their wands and so it was almost impossible to pick out his soft eyes from the pointy features that adorned his statuesque face; but she knew without a doubt that he was staring into hers by the way her abdomen tightened and the back of her neck became tense.

‘I’m not in need of rescuing!’ he stated clearly. ‘I just forgot the charm is all.’ he looked down and then continued walking, but she felt glued to the spot and did not move with him.

‘I wasn’t!’ he turned back to her at the words she could not stop. ‘Rescuing you!’ she confirmed and he ran a large hand through his hair. She took his silence as a plea to continue and, finding the words from somewhere within her, spoke truthfully for the first time in weeks.

‘I don’t think you need rescuing. I just heard something and followed my instinct.’ He stared at her incredulously before turning to move one again down the narrowing corridor towards the staircase.

‘But you don’t need to pretend!’ he stopped dead in his tracks at her words but did not turn around this time to face her. ‘I know what it feels like and whether or not you want to admit that some…’ she hesitated ‘...mudblood...feels the same way as you do, it is true. I am plagued by nightmares every night, some are worse than others, but just like you I am thrown awake with memories that I cannot abide.’

‘I will tell you what I told Harry,’ she saw him hunch his shoulders at the sound of his former rival's name. ‘Don’t trust your own bravery to protect you, trust those around you to be brave enough to help you.’

And again they fell into silence, his back still to her, his wand pointed towards the floor. She did not dare move after her speech; she still had no idea what had come over her. But she saw a small movement, as he turned his head to look over his shoulder and whispered.

‘Don’t’ and he stopped. For a moment, her stomach plummeted in the knowledge that she had gone too far until ‘call yourself that! You know that part of me is dead!’ and he walked off. That night the silence resumed while they filled out their patrol paperwork and parted ways on their dormitory staircases.

‘That is the third time this month!’ Ginny pointed out, filled with jealousy, as she sat down at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, dressed in a simple jean and jumper combination for her visit to Hogsmeade. Three weeks had ploughed on since her conversation with Malfoy and she had been much lighter, and visibly so had he.

‘That I what?’ she asked.

‘That you have walked into this room biting into a cookie. Spill, Granger! Where are they from?’

‘I think Malfoy makes them!’ You think Granger, she mentally chastised herself, you know! ‘They are always on the coffee table when I come down!’

‘Malfoy?’ Ginny narrowed her eyes.

Since they had first appeared on the table a month ago, she would sometimes find a fresh plate balanced carefully in front of the fire, and she always noticed their appearance after a particularly nasty spat the previous night. It wasn’t as if she wanted to fight him all the time and in all fairness the bickering was rarer than her and Ron’s occurrences, but it would explode out of her at the smallest hook from him - she couldn’t resist the bite. It may have also have been to do with the fact that he had moved on from their particularly tense previous conversation without another word of, turning her head over and over, it enthused her to frustration. As well as this, there were no nightly sounds and it appeared his bedtime wards were still up. Apart from this, however, they had strangely fallen into a lovely rhythm of patrolling and mindless drivel conversations about weather, lessons and homework that had started to make the empty ache of loneliness feel a little...less.

‘Yes, Malfoy! They are just cookies Ginny, what is the worst that can happen?’ she asked and Neville piped in at this moment.

‘Did you know that historically, among pureblood magical families, it was the male’s role in life to provide his wife with sustenance to not be seen as a failure. Wizards are therefore raised to be adept in the kitchen to woo their suitors.’

The two girls slowly turned their heads to look at Neville, whose face showed the idea that he had not meant to say that out loud. There was silence and he cracked a small smile.

‘But…’ he continued slowly, seeing the fire in the girls eyes. ‘It could just be cookies!’

On her walk out of the castle and down towards the school gate, she pondered on what Neville had said a little more than she would have usually liked. Suitors? She asked herself, laughing at the notion of her being a suitor to the great pureblood heir that was Draco Malfoy. Even if she desired it - which she firmly did not - there was no way he would backtrack on over 100 years of family history and tradition to date the poor Muggle girl. Somewhere at the back of her mind she heard a small sigh as if a part of her was inwardly sobbing at the notion of not getting him, but she made sure to shake that off as the gate came into view and two of the most handsome men she could ever dream of stood there grinning at her. At the sight of them she ran, full pelt and into their arms as they laughed at her, grabbing her by the hands, fingers interlaced with hers, pulling her towards the village.

‘And then, McGrinnon…’ Ron was expleadetely telling her as they strolled through the main street. ‘Looked at the both of us and just said ‘I could have had You-Know-Who in a day!’

‘And what did you say?’ she looked between the two boys with shock.

‘We didn’t need to  _ say _ anything!’ Harry said to her.

‘But Harry was written up for punching the bloke in the face,’ Ron finished, and she noted the look of pride in his eyes as he looked across the top of her head at their friend.

‘Can you two ever be without me and not get into some sort of trouble?’ she asked them, as they approached the door to Honeydukes. 

‘We do try, honest Hermione!’ Ron said as he swung open the door, giving them a 5 minute sign and ducking in to fill his pockets. She watched through the window as the people in the shop began to stare at him, and not for the way he had already picked up twelve different items in one hand. In fact, her eyes wandering to the rest of the street, there were many interested onlookers to their exploits today, something she had gotten used to over the summer with their contrast media coverage, but had forgotten about with all her time in a school where everyone already knows her and leaves her alone.

She felt a small squeeze in the hand still connected to Harry and turned to see him smiling at her, eyebrows raised.

‘What's wrong?’ he asked her. ‘You seem..’ he took a step back, eyeing her up - she felt very naked under his gaze.’...different!’

‘By different you mean tired! I am so busy all the time; head duties, prefects patrols, homework. At least this year I have a good study partner!’ she made fun of him bumping her hip against his. 

He swung his hand up and around her shoulder, steering her on a walk back down the street.

‘This study partner would obviously be none other than your fellow Head, known bad boy Draco Malfoy!’ he stated. 

She looked at his face and was almost relieved to see no malice there, just the playing of a smile against his pink lips. As she observed him, she could see the difference already in his features. The slight inkling of a tan across his cheekbones from being out and about on cases. She could feel the heavy muscles on her shoulder as he had slightly bulked up through his intensive training and, looking down to where his jumper was slightly riding up on his lower abdomen, the small burn he had talked about in their storytelling of the dangerous mission they had just returned from. As a younger girl, the sight of him or Ron like this would have sent her into a dizzying and rather sexual daydream. But she had to shake off the feeling that she would rather see the attributes of another, more fair friend.

‘Yes...but I laugh at your use of the term bad boy. He hardly leaves the common room if he isn’t on patrol with me!’

‘Hmmm..’ Harry muttered, deep in thought.

‘Guys they still have those animal crackers!’ they heard as Ron ran up behind them and joined them, walking on Harry’s right arm. Hermione inwardly laughed at the image of Ron as Harry’s right hand man. 

‘Hermione was just telling me about all the wonders of the Malfoy boy!’ Harry turned to his friend. Ron’s face was not the same one that Harry had made.

‘Well, no matter what he is still a git!’ and they laughed and headed off for a drink at the Hogs Head.

When Hermione made her way to the Common Room after saying goodbye to her boys that evening, she was more relaxed than she had been since September. It had been wonderful to hear their voices rather than read their eidetic scrawl across the parchment. Not only that, she smiled at the thought, but had seen the sparks across the table the boys had thrown at each other while in the throes of their adventure tales in the pub. Their small smiles and minimal touches infused her with love and glory for her golden trio family.

Walking into the room, she did not notice Draco sitting in one of the large armchairs, legs hanging over the arm, nose buried in a book. She dumped her bag at the side of the room and flopped, very unladylike, onto the sofa and felt the crick in her back; that she always got when walking for too long, unwind itself under the plush sag of the material. She only noticed his presence when his face appeared over the back of the sofa above hers, his lips in a small smirk.

‘Comfortable?’ he asked playfully and took a step back when she sat up.

‘And you want…?’ she asked him as she took in his attire. A simple pair of black jeans with a navy blue shirt; as always only the right arm was rolled up to the elbow.

‘I am going to the library to acquire more books for the shelves here. I have noticed today that we are missing a lot of non-fiction volumes and wanted to see what our historic library has to offer.’ His tone was matter of fact and precise. ‘And seeing as how much I know you love a library...I wondered if you wanted to join me?’ 

She took him in, his features showing no tone of eagerness, his hands rested in his jean pockets. Even though the question was asked, she got the feeling he assumed it would be a very bad idea. But, an evening in the library did intrigue her and so she had said yes, the both of them making their way out of the tapestry hole.

At this time on a Saturday, the library was empty apart from Madam Pince slowly stacking volumes that had been returned that day behind her. She nodded to them both curtly as they stepped in and they both headed off in different directions, deep into the cavernous bookshelves that surrounded them. She had piled a few choice texts onto the small working table when she heard a cough from behind her and turned to see him shifting on his feet, standing at the end of one of the shelves. Her breath hitched at the sight of him between the rows of books, a sight that, unfortunately for her, took her almost immediately to a dark place.

_ The pain that wracked her small frame was unlike anything she had ever experienced before. The curses were thrown at her again and again, turning her and breaking her with each word that hit her like both a vice and a whip. Her mind was whirling with her inability to stick to any thought other than the fact that she was going to die. She was going to die on this cold, hard floor, begging for mercy. Her scream, loud and unyielding, sounded as if it were coming from somewhere else, not her own throat, raw and dry. The claws that ripped at her flesh from Greyback tearing open the material on her thighs, made her body uncontrollably shake with heavy sobs and laboured breath. She immediately felt the rush of hot blood pool under her.She almost hated herself for the weakness she was showing but had never imagined that the pain she felt now existed. Another round of curses, her blood boiling, was heavily set on her frame and the weight only increased when the woman, the caster, crawled over her. Breathing after what felt like being underwater, she looked into the dead eyes again, inches from her own face, her breath swallowing her. Bellatrix Lestrange had the features of youth,she thought, but a soulless colour upon her cheeks, pale and dead, not even flushed from her exertion over Hermione, it terrified her beyond anything. _

_ ‘How did you get into my vault?’ the woman asked her, menacingly glaring her teeth at her, noticing the small points of her incisors. A shiver of fear drenched Hermione in cold sweat. She did not know what she was talking about and no matter how much she pleaded it only got worse. Truth was not a commodity in this situation. _

_ She felt the knife plunge into her arm, her face to the other side, her cheek pushed hard into the cold black marble flooring as the scream that left her lungs echoed through the walls. It was then that she made eye contact with him; as the pain rushed through her veins, the torture inflicted far too much to handle. He had been there the whole time, watching his own Aunt torture and maim a defenseless innocent and she should have been disgusted. But the steely grey eyes of Draco Malfoy, the slight move of his lips and the fear clear on his own features, issued her with a strange sense of security. Between the black and white stars covering her eyes, the small ways in which her vision bled in and out of focus, she could read upon his lips the utterance of a dulling charm and a secret message emitted from his wand. One question crossed her mind before she blacked out from the fire coursing around her small body - was he here to save them?  _

_ When she came to, they were running, she was being dragged and curses were firing around them. Her breath was shallow and the movement stung every inch of her. They were shoved into a large room which she saw, through a blurry and forced gaze, was covered in old tomes - a library. Ron and Harry set her down on the floor, pain searing through her nerve endings like lava, she screamed and they took a step back ensuring to cast a silencing charm around her. She daren’t look down at the damage; the faces of her friends, horror stricken and pale at the sight of her told her all that she needed to know. _

_ ‘Granger, can you walk?’ Draco’s face came back into her vision as he kneeled before her. Gathering herself she nodded and took his outstretched hand, standing up only to fall into him slightly.  _

_ ‘You two are going to have to support her!’ he snarled at Ron and Harry. ‘The elf will be here at any minute and I cannot go with you. I am sure you will see me soon!’ and he ran out of the library shouting. ‘They went this way!’ and leading their captors away. _

_ The next 3 minutes were a blur or cracking magic, Ron yelling the name of a safe house and the cackle of Lestrange as she found them and threw a knife in their direction. All she could see as they turned into oblivion, however, was his pale frame against his family bookshelves, lines of horror around his eyes as if he were looking at her for the last time. _

‘It’s almost curfew’ came his voice, dragging her away from her thoughts. She took in a sharp breath, as if fighting the water of dread that threatened to fall into her lungs. 

‘Granger?’ he asked, slightly concerned and tried to take a step forward, but she threw up a hand to stop him and stumbled back colliding with the shelf behind her. She doubled over, hand thrown to her mouth to fight the acid that had risen from the pit of her stomach, the other gripping her knee in an effort to stay standing. The deep breaths being dragged into her lungs through her nose were working to steady her, but the flashes of the memory were sitting in front of her, playing out like an unwanted movie. She did not look at him, her eyes fixed on the floor as she landed on something she had not remembered before.

‘Dulling charm!’ were the only words she could throw out into the empty space between them. A moment of silence before she sharply turned her head to look at him, seeing his face pale and his lips pressed together in a line line, she threw a hand back against the bookcase.

‘You used a dulling charm?’ she asked him, daring him to deny it. She saw his swallow, hard.

‘Yes!’ he said quickly, almost in a whisper.

Her head fell back against the volumes behind her as she let out a small, anguished moan, screwing her eyes shut to stop the tears. Unable to think straight, she walked off down the aisle, pacing back and forth muttering quietly to herself. ‘But...the...pain...the pain!’

‘Granger what is wrong?’ his voice, increasingly trembling as he took two steps toward her, but she turned to face him and the look stopped him dead.

‘But the pain…’ she was shocked that her own voice had such a harshness in it, it turned her blood cold to hear it.

‘The pain was less!’ he said. She felt the tears now unashamedly running down her face, hot and fast. There were no wracking sobs, just the anguish of months spilling over.

‘Less?’ she heard herself say to him. ‘Less; that was….less?’

‘I couldn’t just stand there and watch. I had already made my choice and you were…’ he faltered with each word that his tongue drew. ‘If I hadn’t...I don’t know what would have happened.’

‘If you hadn’t, I would be dead!’ 

His eyes met hers and she was sure he would make a remark that opposed her, but he must have seen something there, the finality in what she said and the dark colour that had overtaken her. He could not look for long as his eyes flickered downward but she watched him quickly close the space between them and gently lay a hand on her arm. She was shaking profusely, his hand gripped her tighter as he did what she assumed he was prone to do, and took control.

‘Granger, you need to breathe! You are having a panic attack!’

She swiped her hand over his, pushing him off balance.

‘Please don’t!’ she muttered, trying to catch her breath.

‘Focus and take control!’ she heard him say as she closed her eyes.

Her mind was racing with the revelation that had washed over her. If he had used the dulling charm, then the pain that she had felt would have been miniscule compared to the real thing. And that was what shocked her to her core, that pain could be worse than that, that she knew she could not have possibly endured it. She often thought about how, in those moments, she had made peace with death and if that was to be her fate, then let it swallow her. But it would now appear that she would spend the rest of her life thinking about the pain that she never felt. She felt her own hand graze lightly over her thigh and then up to her left forearm where she knew the physical reminders remained. When she opened her eyes, they were standing about a metre apart, her breath had slowed and he was watching her tentatively.

‘The dulling charm.’ she whispered. ‘Was it powerful or…’

‘Yes!’ he cut off. She was resigned to the answer and suddenly, feeling very exposed she leant back against the bookshelf, crossing her arms to cover herself. Unlike when she felt naked under Harry’s gaze, here she felt more vulnerable than she ever wanted to be. She knew that changing the subject was the course to take.

‘Did you find anything?’ she asked him, attempting to keep her voice steady. He looked at her, suddenly confused. ‘For the common room?’

‘Oh...yes!’ he broke out of his careful stance to pull himself to full height, Malfoy again. ‘I have sent some very useful Rune texts as well as some transfiguration volumes that I think I will need this week. And you?’

‘Yes! About three or four arithmancy books that I know will help me with my new calculation.’ she smiled at him, egging him to see her back to normal.

‘Arithmancy? Mind if I look?’ he seemed intrigued and she nodded her head towards the small working table they were left on. As she watched him, she noticed a change in his demeanor, his face becoming childlike and youthful. He turned to her eyes full of wonder.

‘Arithmancy is my favourite subject,’ he told her, and she bit her lip at the idea of a smaller Draco having something to love like that. ‘When I was younger,’ he continued, ‘I would imagine myself a cure-breaker, I would run around with my father's smaller volumes and say the enchantments, wishing I was somewhere far away.’

‘When I was younger…’ she offered him and he raised an eyebrow at her in encouragement. She let out a small smile. ‘I wanted to be...perfect!’

‘Perfection is overrated.’ his smile dropped and she felt her own lips part gently as she stared at him. In that moment, their eyes met and there was a connection she had felt too often with him over the past few weeks. Her heart beat a little faster, the air became a little warmer and the familiar heat of desire ran through her like small licking flames at her toes.

‘You know,’ he said in a low, tantalizing tone, picking up the top book off her pile. ‘This version is not very good. I have the updated guide and could…lend it to you.’ The last few words were played over on his lips and she stared at them, rounder and more pink than she had seen them previously.

‘That would be….nice!’ She gave him a small smile. He started to prowl towards her, the book still in his hand.

‘I’ll just..’ he was inches from her, so close she could feel the warmth of his skin. When she breathed in, their bodies almost touched and it sparked through her veins like electricity. ‘...put this back here.’

He lifted the book above her, placing it on a high shelf, refusing to break eye contact with her. He was over her, closer than he had ever been before and her legs had started to shake with nerves. Her fingers twitched against the bookshelf as if aching to reach out and grab him to stabilize herself. His hand slid down once it had completed his task, and stopped next to her head. His iris’ were blown wide and she could see the faint play of a smirk on his lips, slowly turning her insides to jelly. He swallowed hard and then, just as quickly as he had been there and slowed down time to a near bruising pace, he was gone and walking away.

‘I’ll see you later!’ he threw over his shoulder as he walked off.

She had made her way back in a sort of daze, her cheeks flushed and blood running red hot. When she entered the common room he was not there, thankfully, she did not want him to see her like this longer than he already had. She stumbled up her stairs and got ready for bed, trying to get rid of the pressing need she could feel. In bed, she tossed and turned, trying to get the image of his lips out of her head, pressing her thighs together to relieve the tension she felt there. But it was no good, the sweat was already beading on her forehead as she turned onto her back and replayed the encounter in her head.

The way he had stalked over to her and the look across his usually empty face, she could feel her hand moving down her body and making its way into her underwear.She thought of his hand, high above her, a dominating position, her body pressed against the shelf and so close to touching him. She touched herself and a small moan escaped her lips, this was something she rarely gave in to. Breathing heavy, she conjured up the image again of his eyes, how they were blown wide with obvious arousal and her need to reach out and grab him with her fingers, fingers that were now rubbing her closer and closer towards the edge of the cliff he had put her on. He had put her there with his warm breath, his strong hands and his gorgeous lips. She had wanted him to lean down, just slightly and...and that took her over the edge. She bit back moaning his name as her orgasm tore through her and she lay there, eyes closed, panting, watching the memory of him walk away from her.

She opened her eyes to look at the canopy above her and groaned at the realisation that she faced. Throwing the duvet over her head and turning her face to the pillow she berated her mind for willingly allowing her to touch herself over Draco Malfoy!

* * *

Notes - Once again I want to thank everyone for their kind words and support, I really am having a blast writing at this and my mind is throwing me ideas thick and fast. I wanted the memory in this chapter to really show us what Hermione has gone through and how similar these two characters are going to be. Please let me know what you think.


	5. Chapter 5

‘And look at this picture Andromeda sent me, doesn’t he look like Remus?’

Harry had pushed a picture towards her and she was met with the smiling face of a narrow boy of 5 waving at them from a small childrens broom, no doubt a purchase by her friend. His button nose and kind features emanated that of their dear late mentor, apart from the shocking hair that slowly turned from mousy brown to turquoise blue. She smiled as she took in Harry’s face across from her, his cheeks lifted and rosy; playing the proud Godfather had been a role he had easily fallen into and doting on the boy had become the clear joy of his life.

‘Where’s Ron?’ she questioned him, pulling the cup of tea he had made to her lips and drinking in the sugary liquid. He would never let her have this much sugar in her tea, saying it was bad for her, but Harry ignored every rule ever given to him, so why would this be different. 

‘He is going to pop by tomorrow if you don’t mind!’ he said quickly, a mischievous smirk playing on his lips. She often wondered if he was trying to emulate her lover as it distinctly did not suit him.

‘You know...I know he told you both to keep an eye on me while he was at work this week!’ she told him, he did not meet her eye but smiled to the floor.

‘And you thought we didn’t know you would realise?’ he pointedly looked at her, his eyebrows so high they were hidden under his shock of dark brown hair. They both laughed as he took her hand from across the table, but she quickly pulled it away to push into her lower back, which had spasmed at the force of her shaking ribs, squeezing her eyes to quickly dispel the pain. When she reemerged, the concern was plastered all over his face.

‘How are you feeling?’ he asked gently. Not one to know about the world she had been privy to over the last nine months, he often asked her many questions. It was clear from the get go that Harry was both interested and deeply invested in the changing body of his best friend. She knew his desire to be a father, had known about it for years, but with their other friend so reluctant to submit to losing control, he had only been able to work the desire out on his Godson and her belly. 

‘I’m fine!’ she said, but was pushed further by his unbelieving stare. ‘Really I am! It’s just getting near the end and I am...uncomfortable. To be honest, what I wouldn’t give for a firewhiskey right now. My back is aching and I am so tired.’ she smiled as he got up and walked to stand next to her, taking her face in his face, drawing a thumb against her cheek.

‘Then you should not have let me stay so long,’ he admonished her with a sigh, ignoring her comment about the alcohol, he flicked his wand. ‘I have made you a bath and I am leaving.’ He planted a kiss on the top of her head and walked out of the dining room without a backwards glance, when she heard the fireplace she knew she was alone again.

Pulling herself up from the chair, she waddled back through the kitchen, her eyes falling on their ridiculously large wine rack, filled with an assortment of reds and whites as well as some choice whisky that he had procured before her...condition, as she liked to call it. She could almost taste the sting of the liquid as she stared at the bottles, her mouth filling with saliva thinking about the wonderful way in which she was able to get lost in herself - and sometimes in him as well. But she knew that apart from the alcohol, the two of them had been able to communicate with their eyes well before she had ever drank together. She tore her eyes away, making her way up to their bathroom where she could already smell the faint hint of Jasmine. A bath would just have to do.

* * *

Halloween had come and gone and, to Hermione’s delights, she had awoken several times that week only to look out of her window to see the ground covered in a dusty powdering of white snow. Her grin was infectious at the Gryffindor table, everyone talking about when they thought it would lay and when they would be able to skate on the lake. She had always loved snow as a child; her parents made it a yearly ritual to make snow angels and snowmen. Seeing Hogwarts under its white blanket had always made her love grow deeper, a yearly reminder of the warmth of her childhood. This year she would finally be able to enjoy it again; camping in the snow had put a damper on her love affair with heaven’s crystal showers.

‘It is just frozen rain Granger!’ Draco had drawled at her when she mentioned it for a sixth time one evening a few days back. 

She had rolled her eyes at him from where she had sat on the floor by the coffee table, proof reading his History of Magic essay while he sat above her on the sofa. Despite her best judgements against forming some sort of friendship with him, her nightly imaginings got the better of her and although she would awake filled with regret and resentment at her burgeoning arousal for him, she found herself spending more and more time talking with him and helping him with his work. She had noticed that he, too, seemed to want to spend more time around her, eyeing her suspiciously every morning. She blushed when she saw him, repressing her nighttime gropings, hoping that her occlumency was powerful enough to keep him out. But their time together also brought her into contact with more of his acquaintances. Just last week she had joined him studying in the library when they had been visited by his friends Zabini and Nott. 

Theordore Nott was a well built boy, broad shoulders and large arms. He was a beater for the Slytherin Quidditch team and she often saw him walking around with the team taking part in, what her father would call, football hooligan shenanigans. He had brown hair and scar that ran along the line of his jaw. Two summers ago she knew that Nott had been disowned by his father, his death eater father, for refusing to take the mark alongside Draco. He had run, not before enduring a fight and had gotten away with his life, but his face marred forever at the hands of his maker. Hermione had it on good authority that he had run to Blaise, who spent the holidays with his parents.

Blaise Zabini was as dark as Draco Malfoy was light, but much less angular. He was the son of his French model mother and English diplomat father, who both lived in Paris. He was tall, thin and soft, his voice often coming out in a soft drawl that could put Draco to shame. She had always wondered about his allegiance, being best friends with the sons of known Death Eaters could have put a sharp end to his father's career as ambassador to the French Minister for Magic, but he had drawn clear lines last year and, although not fighting for either side, had worked the battle as an assistant healer, something he mentioned later that he might do after school.

‘Hermione, right?’ Theordore Nott had asked her as he sat opposite her. ‘I am Theo!’ he smiled and she had smiled back. ‘So you are the one who is taking up so much of his time now?’ he asked her.

‘Yes!’ drawled Blaise in a near perfect impression of their pale friend,’You are working him so hard we hardly ever get to see him anymore.’

‘Down boys,’ laughed Draco, a noise that was foreign out of his mouth and sent a shiver down her spine, leading her to press her knees together under the table in an attempt to quell the fire. She could have sworn Malfoy had given her a sideways look, but knew her imagination was playing tricks on her in the heat of the moment.

Sometimes they would visit Draco in the common room and end up staying the evening while she curled up in an armchair and listened to them debate the finer points of recent Quidditch matches. Sometimes they would all work in the library, mouths pressing together silently as they, rubbing their eyes to drown their tiredness, tried to fight against the mountain of Newt's work piled before them. She had also made a habit, kicking herself upon her realisation of it, of checking over all their work before submission deadlines to ensure that any glaring mistakes were highlighted, giving them a chance to change things. Draco would often sneer at her that her corrections were wrong and a debate would ensue, usually broken up by the two boys waving conjured white flags, giving Hermione time to cool herself down, letting the fire and blush along her body melt away.

The pattern of her weeks became comfortable, her Gryffindor friends could see it in her and often commented how she was becoming an ambassador for the ‘Slytherin Outreach Programme’, a lovely term coined by Ginny that hid an insurmountable streak of jealousy she knew Weasleys were prone to. She would admit that her new little working group was not anything compared to her friendship with the boys, or that she could talk as easily with them as she did Ginny, Luna and Neville; but there was something strange and relaxing about the way she had fallen in with them. It was almost - easy.

  
  


On a bright, cool day in late November, an owl delivered a note to her at the breakfast table. The owl dove into the pile of kippers on her plate while she read ;

_‘Miss Granger, Please meet me in my office after breakfast this morning for your first Head Meeting. Professor McGonagall.’_

She looked up across the hall and saw Malfoy had also received the same note. He looked up and their eyes met; even from this distance she felt the spark, the familiar tugging below her navel.She saw him turn to his friends, mutter something and stand up, stalking out of the hall in a rush of green and silver. She did not have much time to furrow her eyebrows questioningly as Blaise and Theo also stood up, but headed in her direction. They moved around the table and dropped down on the bench either side of her, ignoring the disgruntled noises and comments from her fellow house members. 

‘Draco wanted us to let you know he will see you at the meeting!’ Theo said quickly, reaching his hand out and grabbing a kipper from her plate. She slapped his hand playfully as Blaise reached for the Herbology notes by her breakfast.

‘Granger, there is nothing on here about Snargaluff Pods!’ he growled, turning the notes in his hand and looking at her in a panic. Ginny reached across the table and took the notes from him forcefully, looking his directly in the eye.

‘Maybe because we learnt about those last year. How about using your own notes Zabini?’ she used a threatening tone, Hermione eyed her warily.

‘Ah, Miss Weasley,’ he smiled at her, Ginny faltered at the look. ‘You are looking particularly...dashing this morning!’ Hermione noted a small blush appeared above Ginny’s collar, but did not have long to observe it as she stood and sauntered out of the Great Hall in annoyance.

‘Why can’t you leave her alone?’ Hermione groaned at him, feeling irritated that she would not have to have that conversation later today.

‘He is ever so sorry Hermione, it is difficult to hide his ever growing...feelings!’ Theo laughed, and got a punch in the shoulder. Hermione sighed at them both and gathered her things, summoning some notes of the aforementioned plant and handing them over to Blaise with a torrid display of thanks in return.

She made her way up to the Headmistresses office, noticing the ever present scorch marks on the staircase as she moved. He was already waiting for her, standing leant against the high windows, playing with some parchment he held in his hands. Upon seeing her he smiled - well smirked - moving off the wall and gesturing for her to lead the way towards the gargoyle, which sprang to life at their approach. The journey up the staircase was silent and tense, being in this close proximity to him always made her skin shiver. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him looking at her and, when they reached the office door, she turned to look back and he gave her a smile as he placed a light hand on the small of her back. She took in a sharp breath at his touch and he quickly removed it before pushing open the door.

‘Ah, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy. Please take a seat!’ she spoke, offering up the chairs, which they sat in.

‘I would like to thank you for all your hard work over the first half of this term, it is clear to see that I have no reason to regret your appointment. I have been most pleased to hear reports from Professors about the work you two are completing but also how seriously you are taking the inter-house unity project, your own working relationship a shining example of what good can come out of war.’

Hermione hoped beyond hope that her headmistress could not see the thoughts running through her head, detailing in which direction she would like the ‘working relationship’ to turn. Her lower back still seared with the memory of his hand, the burn of desire etched into her skin.

‘Thank you Professor,’ she breathed out as she started to speak. ‘We have both been supported by the prefects who, despite some teething problems, have been able to support us both in your new mission for the school.’

‘Yes, Miss Granger, and with the topic of the inter-house unity project - have you been able to come up with any ideas?’

‘Well, at the moment - ‘ Hermione began but was interrupted.

‘Yes! I have had one thought.’ Draco hurried. Hermione shot him a look that clearly read ‘we have not discussed this’ but he ignored her and continued. ‘With morale obviously low, I tried to think of the last time this school came together to celebrate something that wasn’t about war and I landed on the Yule Ball!’ 

She was trying to burn a hole in the side of his head, a big hole, big enough so that she could see inside his mind and find out what he was thinking. But, of course, nothing happened and he ploughed on without her, like she was nothing in this working partnership.

‘Yes Mr Malfoy?’ Professor McGonagall questioned.

‘And I thought it might be nice - well...prudent...to celebrate the holiday festivities with a dance. I know that most students will begin to make arrangements for the holidays over the next few weeks and if we announced something now, they are more likely to remain.’ He handed over the parchment he had been holding. ‘If you look at this you will see I have calculated a sufficient budget, timings, catering and everything you might think of.’

‘Well Mr Malfoy, this looks very...well researched.’ she smiled at him in surprise. ‘I will take this under advisement and will get back to the both of you by the end of the week.’

Hermione’s blood was boiling, threatening to spill over and fill the Headmistresses’ office with lava. How dare he! Now she was sitting there, looking unfit for her job, not coming up with any ideas at all. But she did not have much time to dwell as McGonagall continued.

‘Now, I have been asked to make the both of you aware that there is an Order meeting taking place this evening; it appears to be an emergency call. Now, usually, students do not go wandering away from school during term time but...owing to the delicate nature of the current social climate in the wizarding world and both your...intricate involvement in this, you will be allowed to attend. Please make your way up to my office 15 minutes prior and I will floo you to Grimmauld Place.’

And with that they were both dismissed. Hermione could not get out of there fast enough, she stormed out of the office and headed down the stairs where she could hear him at her heel. By the time she got back to the gargoyle, she had almost made the decision to run when she felt it, his cool hand clasp gently onto her wrist, pulling gently.

‘Granger! What’s wrong?’ he asked her. She shook him off, but did not run. Instead she turned on him, trying as hard as she could to throw daggers at him with a look.

‘When did you come up with that idea?’ she asked him.

‘About a week ago! I was working out the details.’ he answered.

‘And you didn’t think to involve me in it?’

‘Sorry, I didn’t know I had to!’

She scoffed at him, shaking her head and looking around as if trying to grab the answer from the surrounding portraits. They were staring at the two of them, annoyed that their morning peace was being disturbed. She couldn’t find the right words to say to him without the notion that she would embarrass herself in front of him.

‘I thought we were working together,’ is what she finally arrived on.

‘We are! What do you think the last month has been about? All the studying, the conversations - we are a team!’

‘Team’s don’t leave each other in the dark!’

‘I don’t know what I have done wrong Granger!’ the use of her last name grated on her, how many times had she called him Draco - but he couldn’t meet her there. It drove her wild at that moment.

‘You were only thinking about yourself. You wanted to look good in front of her, put her worries about you to rest. You were trying to prove you weren’t a Death Eater Malfoy!’ 

It had fallen out of her mouth before she had formed the thought and she could not grab it to bring it back. There was silence as he stared at her. In years past she would have seen a fire erupt, malice and curses and a dirty word flung at her for good measure. But as she looked at him, he appeared small, defeated, he almost hung his head.

‘I thought it would be a nice surprise!’ he said in a small voice, looking at her.

‘I thought you would like it!’ he shouted this time. His voice echoing down the corridor.

‘Well you know what I thought?’ she flashed anger at him, moving forward and pushing her face towards him stopping only inches away. But she lost her resolve, her Gryffindor bravery smouldering into nothing as she looked at him. His eyes softened and his lips parted, she felt his hand move up as he swept a curled tendril of hair from her eye. The intimate moment stopped her breath.

‘What did you think?’ he whispered.

‘I...I....’ she stumbled back away from him. She closed her eyes trying to banish the smell of him from her nostrils. ‘I’m an idiot!’ she whispered, turning on her heel and walking away. She did not stop, she did not dare look back at him, even for his shouted ‘Granger! Granger!’.

After dinner she headed to her dormitory to get ready for the meeting. Peeling herself out of her uniform, her chest was heavy with guilt. She had felt it all day, the lump in her throat from what she said to him, the shame it caused her. Not last month had she insinuated that he thought her a mud-blood and here she was calling him a Death Eater. _But he is_ \- her mind spat at her. Pushing that thought away she went to her wardrobe to pull out some old jeans and a blue t-shirt, chastising herself for being so mean. If Harry was here he would tell her off too, and she deserved it. 

She had watched him all day in lessons, keeping him in view, trying to work up the courage to approach and apologise. He had been sullen, hunched over in every lesson. He did not sneer at her answers, he did not look at her or catch her eye. When Theo came over to speak to her, he did not come too and he was not at dinner either. Even if he had been, she had not worked out what to say and she knew it was because what she wanted to say to him was too much for even her to hear.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror as she moved to pull on her jeans and stared at herself. Seeing the scars here made her hate herself even more. _He saved you_ , she thought as her fingertip grazed one of five long scars etched into her thigh like an ornate carving, _and you threw it back in his face_.

  
  


_‘Hermione! Hermione!’ she heard screamed at her, somewhere from a distance._

_As soon as they had turned she had found herself alone, landing, the pain had seared through her leg, erupting from her thigh and spreading through her body. She fell, screaming for help, looking around for them and only seeing bright light, smelling the salt in the air and feeling the thin water under her fingertips. Looking at them she saw the blood trickling onto the wet sand, her hands were covered in it and she screwed her eyes shut to block out the sight before the nausea overwhelmed her._

_‘Hermione,’ a smaller voice, full of panic, pulled her face up. She opened her eyes to see brilliant green._

_‘Harry, I can’t walk! She cried and he shushed her, his breathing hard, his hand shaking. Turning his head around he started to yell._

_‘Ron! Ron! I need you! She needs you! Quickly!’ turning back to her, she would see his wild eyes and she sobbed mercilessly at him, throwing her head pack as the pain seared and burned her._

_Before she could say anything more, two hands lifted her and she screamed at the loss of pressure, throwing her face into the neck of what smelled like Ron. And they were running, the bounce setting off fresh hell in her skin_.

_‘Gently!’ she heard Harry say from somewhere in front._

_‘Gently or quickly! It can’t be both’ Ron growled back. ‘We need to get her in.’_

_Hermione looked up as the wind stopped blowing around her, and she saw the surroundings of a living room, brown and cream everywhere, shells adorning every wall. Everything seemed to move in slow motion as they moved through the place, all silent and surreal. She saw Harry’s face as he grabbed the hands of….Fleur...begging her for something. She saw...Bill...pointing them to the stairs that Ron ran her up, her foot catching on the banister made her dig her nails in him as she grabbed the front of his sweater to stop her howling. She could hear him sobbing as he ran with her, pulling her into a room off the landing and laying her down on the large bed. She saw Harry follow him in, and Fleur, carrying a bowl and towels. Upon the sight of her, Fleur was ghostly pale._

_Harry and Ron worked over her as she sobbed, the energy from her small body spent on trying not to scream anymore, her throat was too raw. Ron lifted her jumper over her head, pressing a wet towel on her arm, the cooling sensation bating the sting. Harry cut and carefully peeled her jeans off her legs, the material stuck to the gash in her thigh, she howled as he picked at it, clawing at him to stop. He came into view, grabbing her face in his hands, pushing her hair out of her eyes and looking down at her. She could see his eyes filled with tears, her blood on his face where he had touched it._

_‘I’m sorry!’ he whimpered. ‘I know it hurts, but I have to get them off!’ she cried at home, shaking her head, afraid of how much worse it would get. He looked across the room, resolute in his decision._

_‘Ron, hold her hands’ he muttered, breathing heavy, tears streaming down his face._

_‘No, please.’ She tried to fight him, but she could not._

_Ron took her, sitting her in his lap, turning her torso towards him. With one large hand, he took both of her shivering wrists and tucked them in between them, holding them against his heart. She could feel his heavy heartbeat and the wracking sobs that overtook his body. She buried her face in his neck as his other hand fell gently onto her head, holding her close and tight. She felt him nod and held her breath as she felt Harry’s hand work up her leg to her thigh._

_The tearing was unbearable. The skin being pulled and moved, the warm gush of blood running down her leg...and the sound. The sound coming from her mouth was unreal. She had thought that in the manor it had been the worst sound she could ever make, but she was wrong. She could hear the boys, Harry pleading with her ‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.’ and Ron trying to calm her ‘It’s okay, you are going to be okay.’ Then she felt something being poured on the wound and she lost it, falling into the darkness, consuming her in fire._

_When she tried to open her eyes, they were heavy and swollen. All she knew was that she was warm. She swallowed, her throat dry and sore. She forced her eyes open to stare at the ceiling, it was bright white, pure and clean. She felt a weight on her forehead and a gentle stroking, she turned her head to the movement and Harry’s head picked up and looked at her. He looked worse than she had ever seen him before, worse than after Cedric, worse than after Sirius. His eyes were sunken and he had dried blood all over him, his t-shirt ripped and burned. His wide eyes were panicked, but his lips wore a smile of what she knew to be relief. Had he thought she was lost? Had he thought it was over? He was seated in a small chair at the head of her bed and she could see his arm reaching out, his hand was on her head, his other hand on the sheets beside her, entwined with Ron’s. He was also in a chair beside the bed, but his head was down, resting on his arm, he appeared to be asleep. He was watching over the two of them, the great protector._

_She caught sight of her arm on the bed next to their hands, it was bandaged but she could see the faint outline of blood. She knew what was written there, she did not need to follow the outline._

_‘They’re Dark Magic. I’ll have the scars forever won’t I?’ she asked him in a small voice, he closed his eyes in response. She let out a sigh, a tear running from the corner of her eye and into her hairline. He wiped it away and she smiled at him, a small smile, one that held the hope of the future._

_‘We’re alive!’ she smiled. He smiled back, leaning forward to kiss her forehead._

_‘We’re alive!’ he repeated._

  
  


Tying back her hair into a ponytail and throwing on a hooded sweatshirt to hide her arm, she made her way down the dormitory stairs, checking her watch. They still had half an hour before they were meant to be in the office and she hoped to be able to look at some notes before leaving. When she got to the bottom of the stairs he was already there, sitting on the sofa with black jeans and a green shirt - his signature arm roll present. He was already looking at her, and when she got to the bottom step he stood slowly, turning to face her.

‘Can I talk to you?’ he asked her.

* * *

Notes: So I do not want to make all the flashbacks as horrible as the last two, but I just think they are so important and the way Hermione feels about her body is going to play a big role later in the story. Thank you to everyone for the Kudos - please keep reading and commenting! I love you all.


	6. Chapter 6

She sunk into the hot water, the steam pouring into every curve of her frame. She let her hand drop over the edge of the tub and her head loll back, taking in a deep breath while the steam filled her nostrils with the scent of Jasmine and Lily. If there was anything her best friend did really well, it was run a bath. She did have to laugh at the thought of that as his epitaph, Harry Potter, saviour of the wizarding world but more importantly, maker of a fucking good bath.

She could already feel the pull at the back of her mind as the ache of the day, specifically the one situated at her lower back, seeped out of her skin and into the porcelain that surrounded her like a blanket. In her whole life, she had always insisted that she was not one for baths; did not appreciate sitting in a small pool of water and did not understand the way in which it could help someone to relax. But that had been before he had bought this tub and introduced her to the world of high price ingredients that massaged your skin to heaven and back.

In truth, she had always tried to shy away from his money and riches, the inheritance he was always unwilling to speak about. But, at some point, she had realised that as much as he did not like to think about where it had come from, it was a part of him. It was then that she had let him indulge her - not too often, but enough to see the smile in his face. The way he would produce the gifts, the small touches of his hands on her skin as she opened them, that was a gift for her. He had always been fond of the small touches, even before, and it endeared her to him that he had never forgotten that part of himself.

‘Mrs Malfoy!’ she heard his voice pull her from her musings, and although she did believe it was her head at first, she opened her eyes to see him seated on the floor next to her, staring at her with a faint blush across his chin. His eyes dragged over her, from toes to face, and he parted his lips gently to form a smile.

‘You look….’ he paused to swallow and let out a slow breath, puffing out his lips and narrowing his eyes trying to find the correct word. ‘...relaxed!’ he finished. 

He pulled up his arm, rolled the sleeve to the elbow and lowered it into the water. She caught a glimpse of the black mark, split in two, on his forearm but lost focus when she felt the back of his fingers grazing the side of her ribs. She moaned at the small touch, intimate but almost non-existent, eliciting another smile from his lips.

‘You look….flushed!’ she murmured back to him. And he kept eye contact with her as the pink on his chin spread slowly to his cheeks. It could have been the combination of the heat and his turtle neck, but she suspected otherwise.

‘You're home early,’ she said, inching forward to remove herself from the bath. He lifted himself from the floor quickly to take her hands and pull her gently upwards. Grabbing a towel, he wrapped it around her shoulders and planted both a kiss on her forehead, then bending down to place one above her belly button.

‘No, love. You were asleep!’ he said, taking her hands and leading her to the bedroom where he watched her pull on a pair of loose fitting pyjamas as he muttered on about his day at the office. He told her all about the issue with the Worcester case files and how the curse was more resilient than the team had first anticipated. As she massaged oil into the skin, he lay back on the bed and complained about Harris, who had the audacity to take an abnormally long lunch, forgetting that they had a meeting scheduled. She padded over to him and sat on the bed, brushing her hair out as he threw his head into her lap while he spoke to her belly and said;

‘...and Daddy just cannot put up with that shit!’ and laughed when she playfully hit him on the stomach.

‘I saw no decorations in the bedroom love!’ he looked at her and she grinned down at him mischievously.

‘I was too busy translating...and eating ice cream!’ she muttered. He sat up and moved around the bed to help her off. It was strange how when he was not here she was able to move around herself without issue, but in his presence she became a hopeless mess, large and obtrusive.

‘Dinner, love!’ he told her as he turned on his heel and left. 

* * *

‘Can I talk to you?’

She felt the lump in her stomach rise back to her throat as he stood there, the question hanging in the air like a slowly falling feather.

‘Sure,’ she said back, shuffling her feet in preparation for the telling off she was about to get. Not knowing what to expect, she pulled her hands behind her and sighed with relief when she felt the outline of her wand in her back pocket.

‘You were right!’ his voice was harsh and she nearly choked when he said it. She looked at him, disbelieving and went to interrupt him when he stopped her.

‘No! I was trying to impress her. I thought of the idea ages ago but...didn’t want her to assign the credit to you even though I knew you would tell her it was my idea. I was selfish!’ He did not look upset or angry, more solid.

‘Malfoy! I should be apologising right now!’ she stuttered at him, confusion filling her mind.

‘For what?’ he asked. ‘For being annoyed at me? You have every right to be more than annoyed.’ He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. ‘I have done nothing to deserve praise, the last six years have been a game of survival that I cheated at.’

She watched as he began to pace in front of her as he spilled himself out for her to see.

‘I have lied, and hurt people, and cursed others and blamed the world, but not turned to the mirror to see myself for what I am. You were right Granger...I am a Death Eater.’ 

‘No Malfoy!’ she insisted. 

And suddenly his arm was pulled out, the sleeve ripped up and the black mark thrust towards her. 

‘Yes, I am!’

Before she knew it, her feet had carried her. Rushing forwards she laid her hand on the mark, feeling his cool flesh beneath her, she looked at him, his eyes fixed on where their skin had met. She wondered in that instant if anyone other than him or the Dark Lord had ever touched him there, and shuddered to think about the pain that this caused him.

‘Draco - ‘ she almost whispered his name and his head shot up to meet her. ‘This isn’t you. I’m sorry - I was angry and I wanted a rise. But this mark does not make you, or shape you, or tell anyone anything about the person that I know.’

‘And what do you know Granger? What do you actually know about me?’ his voice breaking under the weight of the question.

‘That you saved me,’ she could feel him shiver as she ran a thumb over the mark, the slight lift of it from his skin felt unnatural. ‘Anyone else with this on their body would have left me there to die, to bleed there with no dignity and they would have laughed about it. But you didn’t because something deep inside you screamed out. You don’t have to listen to me, but I know that there is good in you and you don’t always have to fight it.’

Her eyes fell down to his arm, connecting with his badge of dishonour and she sighed. It marred his beautifully pale skin with harsh lines and she was so intrigued at that moment she could not hold it back.

‘Did it hurt?’

And he stared at her as he replied, ‘Not as much as yours!’ and he brought his other hand to pull up her sleeve and held onto her wrist, turning her arm over slowly to show the scar across her forearm, the words dragged through her skin. She heard him hiss as he stared at it and she saw his face drain of all colour. She looked between the two marks in front of her, one black and clean, the other red and messy.

‘What a pair we are!’ she smiled at him. And then he was hugging her.

He had pulled his arms away and wrapped them round her form, pulling her into his body. She had so little time to react that both her arms were pinned between them, her finger tips resting on his chest and abdomen, her cheek brushing the soft flesh of his neck. There was no burying of heads or hands in hair. It was not desperate or particularly romantic, but she could feel a sudden want within her. The small touch of a finger trailing her shoulder blades as he pulled away, cleared his throat and then walked out of the common room, gesturing for her to join him on the walk to the office.

  
  


When they had floo’d into Grimmauld Place, she had gone first and, arriving in the kitchen, had been greeted with a bone crushing hug from Ron that lifted her off the floor. He took her hand, pulling her away before the fire had a chance to turn green again and the last sight she caught as she turned the kitchen door was his face, searching the room for her.

In the living room, Harry was relaxed on the sofa, a copy of the prophet in his hands. He was skimming the sports pages for news of the England team when she was dragged in. Ron, for all intents and purposes, pushed her onto the sofa next to him and he opened his arms for her, pulling her into his body, planting a kiss on her forehead and letting his hands begin to play with her hair. She sighed into him.

‘Boys, the meeting starts in like 10 minutes!’ she admonished them.

‘No...it starts in half an hour. We wanted you here early - damn McGonagall and her rules!’ laughed Ron as he dropped in beside her, pulling her feet so her head rested in Harry’s lap, giving him much better access to her mane. ‘How else are we supposed to see you other than Hogsmeade weekends? And they don’t come often enough!’

‘You two are so ridiculous!’ she laughed.

‘We miss you too much!’ said Harry dramatically, ‘and you don’t have time for us anymore since you are off fawning over Malfoy in the corridors of Hogwarts!’ He was truly a drama queen.

She had almost forgotten about Draco being here until..

‘Don’t let me interrupt you!’ he drawled and she looked over to the door to see him standing in it, his posture high and to attention.

She sat up quickly, embarrassed to have been found laying across the two of them like a well worn blanket. Upon seeing his face her stomach began to form a knot that twisted up into her mouth. It was something she had not seen in him before, something that she realised was only for her. It was almost as if there was a fire behind his eyes. She wondered if it could possibly be the spell of jealousy, but then kicked herself at the idea that he would be jealous of anyone that acquainted themselves with her.

‘Oh Malfoy, you came too!’ Ron said with obvious sarcasm coating his words like syrup.

‘I was invited!’ came his reply.

‘Yes, he was. Ron don’t be an arse. Malfoy, there is tea in the kitchen if you want some.’ Harry offered. Hermione rose from the sofa.

‘I’ll make you some!’ she smiled at him.

‘Don’t bother,’ he said, the steel in his eyes hard and unforgiving. ‘You stay here and...catch up.’ He swept out of the room without a backwards glance.

‘Chilly!’ said Harry, looking at her, ‘Any idea what that was about?’ Harry asked her, a knowing tone in his voice as he pulled on the hem of her jumper to rejoin them on the sofa. She did not submit to his pull as she answered, eyes still trained on the empty doorway.

‘No idea!’

  
  


When the other order members began to arrive, they all moved into the dining room, a long stone walled room with a large mahogany table. The floor was carpeted in a threadbare rug that needed a lot of love and attention. Harry and Ron had moved into the house just before their Auror training had started and, with the help of Hermione and Kreacher, had tried to make it fit for long term living. When they had lived here for two months the previous year, they had not allowed themselves to indulge in anything remotely homey, trying to remind themselves that this was not their home and getting attached would make things difficult. In the end, it had been for the best when, after the Ministry disaster, they could not return here.But now, it was almost inhabitable, this being the only room that not yet been transformed. She knew that the boys probably did not spend much time here anyway. 

They had spent a long week staying here and redecorating, sleeping in their old rooms. Hermione looked over as Harry was bringing Ron a cup of coffee and smiled, remembering a conversation she and Harry had the night before her return to Hogwarts.

_ She was desperate for a glass of water, having woken to the usual flash of yellow eyes and teeth and had made her way down two floors to the kitchen. She mused at the dust sheets covering the floor of all the corridors as she made her way down the freshly painted banister, trying to remember which bits were wet and which were not. Walking to the kitchen, she did not see Harry sitting on a bench by the empty fireplace until she had poured a glass of water and had turned around. Upon seeing him, the glass had dropped from her hands in surprise, but he caught it with his wands, floating it back to her. _

_ The look on his face is what shocked her the most, it was empty - almost the same as when she had seen him coming towards her after Dumbledore’s Office with the memory of Snape fresh on his lips. _

_ ‘Water?’ she offered him. But he just shook his head and held up a tumbler of firewhiskey. She placed her own water on the side. ‘Pour me one?’ she asked and he obliged her. She sat down next to him, feeling the cool wood on the underside of her thighs as her shorts rose up. She saw him glance over to the red lines on her thigh and then sighed. _

_ ‘Did you have a nightmare?’ she asked him softly. He shook his head again, looking into the black hearth. She watched as his fingertips traced lines around the top of his glass as he took a swig, she joined him, feeling the familiar burn lull within her. _

_ ‘I don’t love Ginny!’ he said in a small voice, still not looking at her. _

_ ‘I assumed as much when you didn’t get back together,’ she said. _

_ ‘Why didn’t you and Ron get together?’ he finally looked at her, his eyes pleading her forcefully. _

_ ‘The kiss was...just a kiss Harry. I think we were both swept up in the moment. He apologised later. I am glad really - we aren’t suited to love each other. I’m not sure I am ready to love anyone, I have only just learned to love myself!’ she admitted, her eyes trailing back to her two vicious scars. _

_ ‘How do you do that?’ he asked, his eyes trained on her. _

_ ‘What?’ _

_ ‘Love yourself?’ She had never seen this look in him before and he had never really spoken so freely with her. It was well known by everyone that Harry was the brooding type and hated to be seen as weak. _

_ ‘You learn to live with the things that you can’t change, understanding that they make you who you are and there is nothing you can do. You start to realise that you can’t be without those things and anyone who can’t accept them, doesn’t deserve you.’ _

_ She could see the advice turning over in his head, as if he was applying it himself. She had almost known what he was going to say to her, like she had known it for years, realised it over the course of the year in the tent where he would sit and mull the idea over. Was torn by it when Ron left and could see the anguish he felt at the abandonment. Was shocked by it when he would go for days without speaking. She knew he saw it as a burden, a secret he needed to hold on to. She would never ask him, just patiently waited for him to tell her but her waiting may be over tonight. _

_ ‘Do you think that if I told you something about myself that I have kept secret, you would feel weird about it?’ he asked her slowly. _

_ ‘Harry...I don’t really…’ _

_ ‘And would Ron?’ _

_ ‘Harry what is it about yourself that you can’t love?’ she asked him, she could feel her eyes become glassy with held back tears and she could see his were the same. ‘Is it about the war?’ she pressed him and he shook his head.  _

_ ‘Harry,’ she moved one hand to his knee and applied a small amount of pressure. ‘I love you. And Ron loves you.’ At this point she kept back that she thought Ron loved him a different way. ‘We have stuck with you this far, through actual death...I think we can handle anything you throw at us at this point.’ she chuckled a little as she said this, trying to make him smile, but not one lip curl graced his face. _

_ ‘You don’t need to tell me...but I will be ready when….’ _

_ ‘Hermione,’ he cut her off, looking back to the empty grate, placing a light hand over hers on his knee ‘I’m gay.’  _

_ There was a silence as the news settled on her, he turned to look at her, his eyes wide and horrified at his own words and she smiled. She put her own drink on the floor and took his with her, taking his hands in hers and letting the tears roll down her face. _

_ ‘I’m so happy for you!’ she told him, and for the first time that evening he smiled back at her. _

_ ‘Yeah?’ he asked her, almost as if he did not believe her.  _

_ She moved herself to kneel in front of him, taking his face in hands, feeling his wet cheeks under her fingers. _

_ ‘You are wonderful and beautiful and brave. You deserve to be happy in your own skin. You have fought hard enough for that.’ _

_ He leant forward and placed a kiss on her forehead, dragging his friend into his arms for a hug. She heard him whisper into her ear ‘Thank you Hermione.’ _

_ When she pulled back, his grin had faltered again. _

_ ‘What is Ron going to say?’ he asked her. _

_ ‘I’m not sure - but if you aren’t ready to tell him yet - you know this information is safe.’ _

_ He nodded and she gave him back his drink, she toasted him and they finished them. _

  
  


She was brought back to earth as other Order members started to arrive and she looked around the room to see who else had made it this evening, seeing Harry and Ron talking strategy with their Auror mentor John Dawlish over in the far corner, they looked so professional - years older than they had looked just a half hour ago. Kingsley Shaklebolt, current Minister for Magic, was setting up paperwork across the table. Soon the room was filled with other Weasleys; Molly and Arthur, Bill and a pregnant Fleur, Percy and George chatting over coffee. She turned her head to see Draco, leaning cooly against the back wall away from everyone else, she tried to catch his eye but he seemed to be refusing to acknowledge her.

‘Thank you everyone,’ the deep voice of the minister said. They all stepped forward to the edge of the table, Draco coming to stand right next to her, his elbow brushing against her. The touch sent a shockwave through her body.

‘I wanted to update you all on the current status of capture of existing Death Eaters!’ she felt Draco tense beside her. ‘Dawlish is going to fill you all in.’

Dawlish, a tall Mousy Auror with a builder's stature, cleared his throat. 

‘Thanks Kingsley. So at the moment the Auror office is working hard to apprehend missing DE’s or those on the run. Thanks to the information we have got so far from Malfoy,’ he gestured towards Draco as a thankyou and she felt him take a deep breath at being noticed in the room. ‘We have been able to locate and arrest Dolahov and Yaxley, a great win for us. Harry?’ he looked to the boy standing next to him, who took a deep breath and spoke.

‘Yeah, thanks.’ he was almost breathless at the idea of talking about this. ‘So we found them in one of your locations Malfoy and there was clear evidence that there were more than the two of them hiding there, we just haven’t been able to follow any tracks. We did find traces of werewolf magic…’he eyed Hermione carefully. ‘...meaning that Greyback is still in play.’

Dread flooded her at the mention of his name and if she hadn’t been holding onto one of the dining room chairs, she would have collapsed. Harry and Ron were looking at her pointedly, but no one else in the room seemed to notice the colour drain from her face, or the heavy rise and fall of her chest as she tried to quell the panic that threatened to set it. She suddenly felt a soft hand on the small of her back and her chest stopped moving all together. She had felt that hand this morning and could do nothing to draw attention to it. The small touch cleared her mind to be able to focus on Ron, who was now speaking.

‘If you look at the map on the table, these are all the current known DE hideout locations, all are under surveillance. Only here…’ he pointed to a place on the map ‘has had activity in the past month. It would appear that they are moving around every few days.’

‘So what’s the plan?’ George asked.

‘At the moment, continued surveillance. We can’t be sure of a pattern and we don’t want to storm a place without knowing who could get hurt.’ said Dawlish.

‘Are you tracking the moon?’ Hermione asked quickly. ‘He is a werewolf and the movement pattern is more likely to match the moon movement.

‘Granger is right!’ Draco added to her point, everyone turning to look at him. Since his first meeting in this room, he had not spoken up. ‘He will be weakest on the day of the new moon, where all his energy will have been lost from the night before. Find out where he will be that day and the auror office can raid then.’

There was a trickle of agreement but Kingsley spoke up.

‘As far as the ministry is concerned, this mission will not be on their records. The wizengamot do not want to sanction raids without hard evidence.’

‘But then he will get away!’ growled Draco.

‘Yes Malfoy,’ argued Ron across the table. ‘We are well aware of that, but legally and officially our hands are tied.’

‘You two know better than most that this guy is not to be messed with.’ Hermione could see him becoming more irate as he spoke. ‘Forget Dolahov, forget Yaxley. This guy is seriously dangerous. He is a monster!’

‘Thank you Mr Malfoy,’ Kingsley cut in. ‘Because the Auror office cannot intervene, I am calling a stealth mission. Order of the Phoenix 101 - unofficial raid and capture. I will, of course, have no knowledge of this meeting of the plans made henceforth. From this moment, the mission is in all your hands.’ He turned and exited the fireplace in a flash of green to silence.

‘Okay, who wants to volunteer?’ asked Dawlish.

Everyone looked shocked as Draco was the first to raise his hand, quickly followed by Harry and Ron. George and Bill followed, with Hermione putting her hand up last. Although she was not particularly keen, she had to see him brought to justice for her own sanity.

‘I will be in touch!’ he said as he took the list of names and also stepped through the fireplace.

‘Well, thank you Harry for your hospitality, will we see you this weekend?’ Molly asked across the room.

‘Mum, we are working this weekend,’ Ron apologised and Harry waved his wand and a small glass shot to each of their hands. The glass was full of a brown, sticky liquid and she could already smell the spice of the firewhisky.

‘Thanks for coming everyone! Constant Vigilance.’ he lifted the glass, knocking it back.

‘Constant Vigilance!’ everyone repeated and Hermione raised the glass to her lips, closing her eyes against the burning sensation that swept through her veins. She let out a small cough and could hear a slight chuckle from Draco next to her.

When they felt, the boys hugged her and reassured her that they would get as much information about Greybacks movements as possible. Harry lay a hand on her arm and a hand on her face as he spoke. Hermione would usually have found this a comfort, but she could feel his gaze on her from across the room. When they both stepped through the fireplace back to Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall was seated at her desk and gave them both a nod goodnight and sent them on their way. Hermione fell into her bed, exhausted.

Not three hours later did she awake, throwing herself up as she struggled to catch her breath, as if she had been underwater for too long. She had seen him, yellow eyes and yellow teeth above her. She had seen him raise his human claws and slashed at her as she lay there defenseless. She heard his cruel laugh as she cried while he climbed on top of her and had seen herself screaming and bleeding, Harry and Ron unable to reach her. She had screamed for Draco, but when he turned to her, he looked confused. She had screamed for him to help her, but he just smiled and turned to walk away.

She was breathing heavy, unable to steady herself and so, throwing her legs out of bed, made her way to the bathroom to splash water on her face. As she moved to the sink, she saw his light under the door and made her way to it. She lifted her hand, trying to calm her own breathing, as she knocked lightly. 

‘Come in,’ she heard and opened the door.

He was sat in bed, duvet gathered at his feet, revealing in him dark green track pants and nothing else. Just like before, she lingered on his torso and the thin scars there, before seeing that he was reading. Just like before, the familiar warmth in her abdomen set upin turning her to jelly. Upon seeing her, he lowered his book and stared at her cooly.

‘I couldn’t sleep!’ she offered as an explanation, her voice sounded hoarse after the exertion of her dream.

‘It’s late, why not get one of the house elves to make you a drink!’ he said, sounding bored and lifting his book back. She went to turn away but stopped again, facing him.

‘I don’t sleep much,’ she muttered back at him. He lowered his book again to look at her but he said nothing. She shifted awkwardly, pushing her flyaway hair out of her face and then crossing her arms impatiently waiting for him to say something. But he did not, he just kept on staring at her.

‘Are we friends?’ she suddenly asked him and it was clear the question took him by surprise as he shut his book, placing it on the side table.

‘That word is...complicated.’ he said, sitting up and crossing his legs, throwing his arms in front of him. The mark was on full display now, unashamedly turned towards her. 

‘Are you in love with Potter?’ he asked her, this time it was her turn to be surprised.

‘Erm...I don’t really…’

‘It’s just a question’ he finished.

‘No! Harry is...complicated.’

‘Go back to bed Granger!’ he sighed at her. She didn't know where it came from, but she took a deep breath and shared something that she had not told anyone.

‘I can’t sleep because I am lonely! I spent a whole year sleeping with other people, wrapped in their arms or listening to their soft breath next to me. Not hearing them every night is very painful and, just like you, I have no one to wake me up from my nightmares. Sorry to have bothered you!’ she turned and heard his voice, turning back to face him.

‘I can’t sleep because when I wake up from my nightmares, I hear yours too.Hearing you scream every night is,’ he looked around, sighing and trying to grab the word from the air, ‘...unbearable. I don’t think I will ever sleep again without hearing it.’

And once again, they fell into the silence that had become such a staple between the two of them. Suddenly, Draco moved over in the bed, a small touch on the mattress next to him indicating she could join him. Her lips parted as if to question him, but she knew that if she sat with him, laid with him, she would never leave. Instead she smiled.

‘We are friends, Malfoy!’

She shut the door and returned to her room. His face, a vision of loss, having been vulnerable in front of her and to be turned down, stuck in her mind as she curled up under her duvet, her head in her hands.

* * *

Notes: Honestly - this is becoming more of a slow burner than I anticipated, but I really like the way it is going. I am going to stick with this pace, but know that more is going to be happening between our two reluctant love birds soon. Plus the hint for Harry is gonna be developed too. Thanks - much love xx


	7. Chapter 7

She pushed the food around her plate, twirling her fork around and around as she stared at the honey coloured pasta. She had eaten two bites and had been overcome with an urge to keep her mouth closed - another joy of growing life would be the constant balance between heartburn and vomiting. She had cast a charm, but the effects only led to a cooling sensation in the pit of her stomach and so she was forced to smile as he wolfed his food opposite her. He once had been a neat eater, taking precautions over his cutlery and swiping them from his mouth like he was an in a erotic video - but over the years some of his perfect upbringing had melted away. 

He looked up at her as he shovelled in another mouthful of food and she smiled at him. He must have seen the strain in her cheeks because he put down his fork, rubbing his mouth on a napkin.

‘You not hungry love?’ he asked her, looking between her face and the almost full plate in front of her.

‘I’m sorry, I was!’ she pleaded with him. ‘I don’t know what's come over me, my back is killing me!’

‘You don’t need to apologise.’ He picked up both their plates and walked through to the kitchen, depositing them on the side by the sink. He turned back to her to offer her a warm smile and he beckoned her over.

She waddled over to him and he wrapped his arms around her, burying his face in her neck and running his hand up and down her spine. She buried herself in him, feeling his heat against her skin and could feel herself melting in his arms. Affection had been something quite foreign to him at the beginning and it took him a while to understand the cues, but now years down the line he dished it out like hot soup, thick and fast.

‘Are you struggling, love?’ he whispered in her hair, and she nodded slowly against him. He brought a hand up and buried it into her hair. He knew this was taking its toll on her, she did not like the feeling of not being in control.

‘Would you like a walk?’ he asked, she peered at him front under for curls and nodded again, letting him lead her to the back door where she slipped on some sandals.

As he opened the door, the fresh early summer air hit her and she closed her eyes at the breeze. They had been lucky enough to find a house with a big garden, something she thought he would never want but was obviously used to growing up in the Manor. She felt something brush against her ankle and peered over her swelling to see a ginger tale winding its way up her leg. Crookshanks was, again, something she had been surprised over; that he even wanted an animal seemed too familiar. But he grew accustomed to this ginger as he had all the others in her life and so they had become a small trio of their own. She knew her beloved cat would soon be getting a shock as their small trio expanded.

Slipping his large hard into hers, he pulled her through the soft cut grass and flower beds towards the far end, where a love seat swing sat. He had built it with the help of Harry and Ron when they had moved in, Ron had gifted it to them as he said ‘the git can read in it.’ His vocabulary had not improved over the years much to all their dismay. She sat down as she watched him walk around, it was almost impossible for her to stay on her feet for long, he picked flowers, tended to weeds and cast crawler enchantments on their large oak. He looked peaceful with his hands at work, and she relished in it.

* * *

‘Are you in love with him or something?’ Ginny asked.

She was sat in the big plush sofa of the Gryffindor common room, legs tucked under her as she spent her free period with Ginny. She usually spent her free’s in the library and her evening with Ginny, but she had been so busy that it had become impossible to spend time together.

The end of November meant that the Quidditch season had begun and, as Gryffindor team captain, she was spending a lot of time training her new team to whip them into shape. The first match was this weekend; Gryffindor vs Slytherin, and the tension in the great hall was palpable as the match approached.

‘Love who?’ she scoffed, looking over at her friend.

‘Malfoy!’ This made Hermione laugh, loudly.

‘What? You think I am the only one saying something?’ she bit back.

‘There are other people asking if I am in love with Malfoy?’ she asked, the tremble of a laugh dying in her throat.

‘Well not love. I am being polite. They want to know if you're shagging!’ she shouted.

‘No, we are not!’ Hermione said loudly as she knew other Sixth and Seventh years in the common room were probably leaning in to hear the answer. ‘We just study and do head work and his friends visit us.’

‘Oh, won’t Ron be sad!’ her friend's eyes looked over at her suggestively.

‘I don’t think Ron is interested Ginny - sorry to burst your bubble - he has his sights set a little closer to home.’

‘What? Like…’ Ginny started by her words faded away and a look of realisation came across her,

‘I don’t know!’ she said truthfully. ‘Only time will tell!’

  
  


On the morning of the match, she had woken up early from a particularly discomforting dream involving Draco, his quidditch uniform and a golden snitch. This had meant she had had to deal with herself before even starting her day. Unfortunately for her, this had become a more regular occurrence of late and Ginny’s suggestion over the previous day's conversations meant that he was constantly hanging around her head. She knew it was an attraction, just chemical and biological. But it did not mean that her arousal did not spill over into their everyday interactions.

As she sat on her working table, rewriting a particularly abysmal potions essay, she heard his door shut and he barraged down the stone steps. He stopped when he saw her, probably not expecting to see her up so early, and smirked. He had his uniform on! That uniform on! The uniform from her dream. She felt herself shift in her seat and his smirk turned into a smile.

‘See something you like Granger?’ he asked her, strutting towards her.

_ Yes!  _ Her mind screamed. His broad shoulders were being hugged by his green and silver jersey, the lines perfectly accenting his muscular chest and torso. The cream jodhpurs on his legs were so tight they were bordering on indecent, hugging his thighs and calves like a newborn spider monkey. It even hugged his...well...it was completely inappropriate. And his hair, it was floppy and freshly clea, no styling at all, falling over his eyes like giving him the outward appearance of an extremely hot, innocent puppy dog.  _ His hair isn’t his uniform Hermione.  _ She reminded herself.

‘The colours don’t do it for me Malfoy!’

He walked towards her, coming to the side of her chair, putting one hand on the back of it and the other on the table, he leant over her. It was almost predatory, his face so close to hers he could easily lunge down and take a bite of her neck as she strained it to look at him.

‘We’ll just see about that when I win today, and you can't resist yourself a winner.’

‘You wish, Gryinndor will beat you down,’ she smiled back at him, sweeter than cherry pie. If it were possible, he leant closer, his lips placed next to her ear.

‘You know Granger!’ he whispered, eliciting small goosebumps to break out across her neck and below the collar of her blouse. ‘When I have myself a little morning me time, I make sure to cast a little spell so no one can hear me moaning.’

Her face shot back from his and she could feel the heat rise both on her face and in between her legs.

‘Just some advice.’ he whispered, an unforgiving smile reminiscent of the Grinch playing on his lips. She lashed out pushing him backwards hoping he would hit the floor, but he chuckled as he caught himself.

‘You are a snake!’ she laughed at him, trying to push down the embarrassment and play it off like she did not know what he was talking about. She watched him grab his broom and saunted across the room before turning at the tapestry to look at her.

‘Yes, why don’t you come slither in sometime!’ he laughed as she shouted ‘PIG!’ at his receding back.

As she made her way down towards the grounds she could not shake the embarrassment that she could feel seething in her jawline. She did not know what had gotten into him lately; the small touches when she was lost in thought, working far too close to her while they were preparing for the Christmas Ball and becoming overly flirtatious. Part of her was screaming for her to let her guard down, but her rational brain was overriding, telling her to stay calm and ignore him.

The stands were full for the first match of the season, all four bright colours streamed around the place as she took her seat in between Luna and Neville. Neville had his face painted gold and red and Luna was wearing her signature lion's head, mooning over her own nail varnish colour. It seemed strange that she was about to watch a Gryffindor match and not look out to see Harry’s jet black hair zooming past them in search of the glittery golden ball, instead she was far more interested in the white hair of her fellow head.

‘Come on Gryffindor!’ she shouted as the teams flew out to the middle of the pitch to wait on Madam Hooch’s signal. 

When the whistle went there was a crash of brooms as all the players interwove each other, legs flailing to get at each other before the referee had a chance to pin anyone down. Hogwarts had not seen any Quidditch the previous year under its torturous regime and so this was now a real chance to let loose. Hermione could see the red and green blurs as they sped past the stands, scoring points at both ends. 

‘So, Hermione, won’t Draco be disappointed that you are not supporting him today?’ came the wistful voice of Luna. She turned to smile at her friend.

‘No, Luna. We are just friends!’ that is what she had told him anyway, her groin liked to tell her otherwise.

‘The best relationships begin as friendships,’ she said back to her and Hermione saw Neville roll her eyes.

The match was a brutal one, exhilarating but tough. Both teams were fighting for it through gritted teeth. There were scraps and, everytime a player stopped for longer than a fraction of a second, Hermione could see the blood dripping from different parts of their skin or the bruises already forming on their cheek bones. The stands were erupting with screams and boo’s, a particularly loud crunch was heard to her right and she swung her head to see Ritchie Coote, the sixth year chaser, fly haphazardly out of the wooden stand; a large gash in his forehead, grinning from ear to ear.

She could see Ginny, her red hair flying behind her as she scored Gryffindors fourth point of the match. She could see him high above everyone else, scanning the stadium for the snitch. Every hoop that they shot, every bludger that landed she saw him punch his fist to the broom. She had only ever watched the boys play before and their style was very different; Ron was all show and honour, Harry was refrained and private. Neither of them ever let the crowd see what they were thinking. Draco was the opposite; in everyday life he was cool and distant, on the pitch he wore his heart on his Quidditch Jersey. She didn’t mind seeing him like this. 

And suddenly he was diving towards the ground; her eyes followed the glitch of gold he was streaming after. Diving in and out of the other players, swirling around the Professors stand, she watched him rise and fall, his cloak billowing behind him. Then she saw it in slow motion, his hand outstretched towards the ball and his fingertips mere millimetres away and she saw the ball hurtling towards him. It had been kicked, she had not seen by who, by the bludger was on a one way path towards him. She gripped the wooden stand in front of her, her nails digging in as she saw it collide with his ribs, his face a picture of shock and pain as he grabbed his side. His other hand lost balance, his breath hitched in his chest as he struggled to breath and she saw as his eyes fluttered closed and he slipped.

She screamed, bringing her hand to her mouth, the rest of the stands joined her. The professors were shooting spells, but missing as he hurtled towards the floor. The sound he made as he hit the floor was unlike anything she had ever heard before. His back was buried in the grass and the tears were rolling freely down her face. There was silence in the crowd, a silence that she had never heard on the pitch before, the other players had stopped, the bludgers flying off away from the grounds as she buried her face in her hands and Neville put an arm around her. A sounds made her pull her hands down, a trickling of cheers and so looked back at his lifeless form to see him trying to sit up. She looked down in awe as he coughed and slowly lifted his right arm, the golden ball glittering in the winter sun. The crows erupted.

She had run to the hospital wing, pushing through the crowd at the doors to get to him. As she reached them, the prefects let her through and she stopped as she saw him walking towards her. Her shocked face must have been a picture.

‘Miss me Granger?’ he laughed, but winced as he did so gripping his side.

‘You scared me!’ she growled at him, walking towards him and lifting his jersey to see the stunning purple and yellow mess of his torso. She brought her fingertip up to touch him and he winced away from her, giving her a look that could kill. ‘You look like shit!’

‘Don’t make me laugh Granger, it hurts!’

‘Come on, we have to prep the common room!’ she looked at him confused.

‘I may have said the party is at our place!’. Putting an arm over her shoulder, he leant on her as she helped him out. She had not attended a party in a long time, had not felt it right or a cause worthy enough. She bit her lip, not wanting to kill his fun.

  
  


_ The room was filled with people, most of whom she had seen before at Bill and Fleur’s wedding, now all adorned in black and speaking in hushed tones. She adjusted the front of her black silk blouse as she walked through the kitchen, grabbing herself a glass of goblin wine. She had not spoken to anyone yet, did not have the courage to strike up conversation knowing what they would want to speak to her about, she could see it in their eyes as she walked past them. _

_ The early summer breeze drifted through her hair as she walked into the garden of the Burrow. There were still people milling around out here but less so and she was able to catch her breath and prepare herself. This had been the worst one by far, they hadn’t even seen Ron since they got back. She felt a presence next to her and looked to see Harry standing there, staring out in the same direction as her onto the meadow in the neighbouring pasture. _

_ ‘It’s funny. 3 months ago I had never even attended a funeral. Not mum and dad’s, or Cedric or Sirius’. Now I have lost count.’ his voice was distant and sad.  _

_ She squeezed his hand in comfort and bit back tears. He had attended every funeral he could, talking to families and giving donations. She had seen the toll it had taken on him, the anguish he went through when he shook the hand of a crying mother. She had watched the tears roll down his face as he sat with a bright haired baby asleep in his arms as they said farewell to Remus and Tonks and today she saw him roll the programme plastered with moving images of a red haired devil. _

_ ‘This was the worst one!’ he stated. _

_ ‘Where is he?’ she asked him, but he just shrugged at her. ‘Do you think…’ _

_ ‘Let's go find him.’ he agreed, nodding. _

_ She let go of his hand and they stumbled back through the kitchen where Ginny was trying to convince Molly to stop washing up. They moved round the dining table where Arthur was talking gently to George passed the living room door where Charlie was hugging a bereft Percy. Such sadness she did not think had ever befallen this house, it was strange so see it so quiet and still after a lifetime of madness. _

_ They both made their way up the many stairs, both hopping over the creaking boards and loose steps, more at ease here then they were in their own houses now. They stopped just outside the peeling door with the plaque ‘Ronalds Room’ and stood facing each other, listening for a sign of life. A small chink of marble came through the wood and with a sigh she turned the door handle and opened it.  _

_ Ron was sitting on the floor of his bedroom leaning up against his bed, his old wizard's chess set in front of him, he had the broken pieces of a pawn in his hand. His shirt and tie were loose, his black robes in a heap on his bed. He had slipped his shoes off, his bright orange shocks the only drop of colour in this otherwise muted outfit. He looked at them and Hermione saw his red eyes turn upwards as he saw them. They both walked in, Harry sitting opposite him almost as if to challenge him to a game and she swept around to sit on the bed, her heels almost falling through a small hole in the floorboard. He leant up against her legs as he placed a hand on his shoulder. _

_ ‘Sorry, am I needed downstairs?’ he asked in a croaky voice. She watched Harry shake his head. _

_ ‘Harry, what do we do now?’ he asked in a croaky voice and Harry took a deep breath. _

_ ‘Hermione? Any answers?’ she looked at both boys as they turned to her. _

_ 'Live?' _ _ she asked back and Ron chuckled slightly, winding his hand to the back of his neck and rubbing, dropping his head forwards. _

_ ‘Do you want to play some Quidditch?’ Harry asked after a long silence and Ron looked at him and smiled. _

_ ‘Yeah...I really do!’ and he cried.  _

_ It was the first time they had seen it since it had happened and for a moment, they were almost dumbstruck by the sight of it. Harry pushed aside the chess set and moved forward, wrapping his arms around his friend and Hermione leant over and stroked his hair as his shoulders heaved. _

_ ‘Mate, I know you’re bad at it but...there’s no need to cry. It’s just Quidditch! _

_ All three of them looked to the door to see who had spoken and they saw George, not a smile upon his face staring at them.  _

_ ‘I’ll get the brooms,’ he said and turned away. _

  
  


When they made it back to the common room, the party was already in full swing and she could see Theo and Blaise handing out drinks from a little pile they had made in the corner. She could already see herself having to turn a blind eye tonight as she spotted firewhiskey and mead among many other alcoholic bottles. Draco removed his arm from her shoulder and walked off towards the pile, grabbing a bottle from Theo and clinking it with his, taking a swig.

‘At least we get to have a party!’ Ginny said to her as she walked over. 

‘I’m sorry you lost!’ Hermione said to her.

‘It’s okay. It was one hell of a match,’ she said indicating the nice shiner she had on her chin. ‘To be honest, our seeker would not have been able to do what Malfoy did. The only bad thing about Harry not returning really.’ and she gave Hermione a look and laughed.

‘Saint Potter?’ drawled Draco as he moved back towards the two girls, clutching a cup of mead for them both. ‘Even he couldn’t have made that fall look as graceful as I did.’

‘In your dreams Malfoy.’ Ginny shot at him, taking the glass and downing it in one.

‘Ooh Weaslette, is that a drinking challenge. Sore loser trying to find something else to beat me at?’ he asked her, winking at Hermione as he did so.

‘Can you both not get too drunk, I really do not want to have to write up my best prefect and fellow head boy!’ she said as Ginny stalked off back towards Blaise who refilled her cup. She was sure she overheard him say ‘Miss Weasley, you get better looking everytime I see you’ which earned him a small slap but also a smile.

‘Don’t worry Granger!’ Draco whispered in her ear as he laid a hand on her upper arm. ‘Even with a bit of drink in my system, you can still have a drink with your winner.’

A few bottles of mead later and Hermione did feel particularly loose as she walked around the common room casting cleaning spells on the furniture. As it was an hour until curfew, most of the party goers had left, leaving just their closest friends hanging around the fire. Theo appeared to be in a deep conversation with Neville and Luna about what a Nargle was and Ginny was sitting incredibly close to Blaise as she explained her tactics for the match.

‘Walk with me?’ she heard his drawl behind her, and turned to see a slightly lopsided smirk on his face.

‘Where to? It’s nearly curfew!’ she said to him.

‘Just around...and we have a get out of Azkaban card!’ he said, pointing to the badge on her jumper.

‘Fine...Ginny can you make sure these boys finish the tidying!’ she said as she walked towards the tapestry hole. 

‘You know, it's so strange that it took us a war to be able to party with the Gryffndors,’ he said as they crossed the Entrance Hall on the way out to the grounds.

‘Well, the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs are always up for a party - we just never invited you guys!’ she said, glaring at his mock shock horror.

The wind swept around them as they walked the ground in darkness, listening to the rustle of the forbidden forest and the slow lapping of the water at the edge of the lake. She could not suppress the feeling she had that he wanted to say something to her, why else would he have asked her to go on a walk in the chilly November air. Their common room was full of people that had a vested interest in them and so anything he said to her could easily be misinterpreted. He stopped next to a tree to catch his breath, again gripping his side.

‘Why did you come out here if it’s difficult to walk?’ she asked him.

‘You sound like someone’s mother!’ he sneered at her, the baiting of their usual friendship continued.

‘You seem to forget I have basically been Harry and Ron’s mother for six years!’ she laughed but stopped when she saw his face drop. He pulled himself off the tree and looked out onto the lake.

‘I don’t think someone's mother is often found laying across her children while they play with her hair,’ he said sighing. She could not help but laugh at his flash of jealousy.

‘You know what I mean!’ she started but he turned to her.

‘Do I?’

‘Harry and Ron...and I - we are really close.’

‘That is clear Granger. Whenever you enter a room neither of them can keep their hands off you for very long. Potter is particularly...handsy.’ he said, his jaw tightening.

‘I think you have misunderstood.’ she said. ‘If you have something to say, just say it - I won’t be mad.’

‘I already asked you and you did not answer which leads me to believe that you don’t want to tell me something.’

She racked her brain thinking of their conversations over the past day. They had spoken about Quidditch, and homework, Greyback and Order members and she had told him they were friends. He hardly ever asked the questions, anyway, just gave her snide remarks and rude retorts.

‘Stuck?’ he asked, she nodded. ‘Are you in love with Potter? Is he in love with you? Have you….’ he couldn’t finish the conversation as she had scoffed at him and turned her head away.

‘This again?’ she asked him angrily. ‘It’s like hanging around a petulant child!’ he cried at him.

‘See Granger - you don’t answer. Or you won't!’ he exploded at her.

‘Yes...okay…!’ he stared at her, faltering his words, as she cried the words at him. ‘But not in the way you think.’ He locked eyes with her and she saw the dark iris’ expand as the ground got darker, the only light on them that of the moon and the small dotted windows of the castle.

‘He is my brother, my best friend, my confidant and everything I have tried to protect for seven years. There is a bond between us that cannot be broken or shaken,’ he seemed annoyed at this and turned away but she walked in front of him.

‘Listen to me. Harry and Ron are always going to be best friends with each other. But Harry and I, we know things about each other that Ron does not. Remember, Ron left us last year; not for long but long enough that Harry and I were sure he would never come back. All we had was each other. When something like that happens...I would do anything to make him happy.’

‘So...you’re not  _ in _ love with him?’ he asked in a small voice. She felt the tremor of her heartbeat increase as he looked at her with pleading eyes.

‘You didn’t specify.’ she said quietly with a smile on her lips.

‘You should have been a Slytherin Granger - you know how to bend the rules perfectly!’

‘Enough of this! It’s late, I am going in!’ she turned to walk away but he grabbed her wrist, the touch gentle but firm and a dragon in her stomach woke up, beginning to growl fire into her.

She looked down to his hand on her, the graze on his knuckles red on his porcelain skin. Her eyes travelled up to his face and her breathing became heavy and she swallowed. If she had thought his eyes were dark before, it was nothing to how they looked now, barely a smudge of grey could be seen as his hair flopped over them. He took a step in, pressing his body to her side; the dragon beginning to growl within her and the fire seeping up to her face. His eyes bore into her; they looked down to her lips, his breathing just as heavy as hers.

‘Draco…’ she whispered, but stopped when his other hand ghosted across her collarbone to land on her neck, his thumb brushing against her jaw. Her skin erupted in shivers at the touch, her lips gently parting at the sensitive touch.

‘I’m going to kiss you Granger!’ he said in a hoarse voice.

‘I think…’ she started but again, her words faltered as she saw his face coming closer to hers. 

And his lips were on hers, a soft and gentle kiss, a warmth filling her body and the dragon beginning to roar. At first, she was still, frozen under him unable to process, but soon enough she responded, moving her lips against his. For something she had not asked for, her mind was now screaming at her that she wanted it, wanted more than she ever had from him before. She felt his hand drop from her wrist and round her waist, pulling her to him completely and a small moan escaped her at the contact. Her own hand winding up to grab at his green jersey.

She had never felt something so wonderful. She had kissed before, by some of the Wizarding Worlds finest boys. Viktors kiss had been chaste and sweet, she had loved it and it had been exciting. Cormac's kiss had been hard and blunt, needy and overwhelmingly off putting. Rons kiss had been fast and heavy, the power of the situation around them pushing them forwards. But this kiss, Draco’s kiss; it was passionate. It was everything her childhood romance novels had told her it would be. She could feel his hands on her, the wind whipping around them silencing all other thoughts and sounds and his tongue sweeping across her lower threatened to turn her to mush.

But, even amongst all of this her rational mind was able to fight through and speak to her.  _ Kisses ruin friendships _ . And she knew she was right. She flattened out the hand against his chest and put some pressure there, he seemed to get the hint as he broke the kiss and she hung her head. He dropped his hand from her chin and there was silence as the two of them caught their breath. She pushed the dragon in her chest down so she would be able to talk to him.

‘Sorry - was that not…’ his line fell off and she looked up, not making eye contact with him.

‘No it was...lovely!’ she half smiled. ‘Umm, but…’ she backed away from him, letting the arm around her waist. She could see hurt behind his eyes and wanted to tell him it was okay, but her thoughts were overwhelming her.

‘I just don’t think we should….me and you should...it might be better if…’

She was shaking. Trembling all over from the effort not to pounce on his them and there, not to take him in her arms and run her hands through his angelic hair. She knew she had to leave the area.

‘I have to go!’ and again she found that she was walking away from him, this time she did not hear him shout after her.

In bed that night, she lay awake, thinking about it. The way he had felt against her, the way his hair fell in his eyes, the way he had looked at her. She knew that she had never felt this way before about anyone, never had someone been able to ignite such a fire inside of her. But they were friends and that was what she needed right now, a friend that understood her, knew the pain she had gone through.

  
  


Not for the first time that week had she seen him, face cruel and pale as he laughed at her. But now, it was crying. She saw the usual yellow eyes, the flash of pain against her skin, but when she turned he was chained. Rather than screaming at him, she was screaming for him, running to release him but he moved further and further away. Behind her, she could hear Harry and Ron calling for her, telling her to leave him, that he was not worth it, but she ran all the while as he was dragged away.

The cold sweat that enveloped her when she opened her eyes stilled her, her breathing loud and uneven as she sat up and grabbed a hair tie from her bedside, pulling her mane to the top of her head. She fought the bile that rose inside her, but the flash of his face felt burnt onto her retina like a heavy photographer's flash. She knew that she needed him and was too scared to lose him and knew what she had to do.

She crossed her room and the bathroom quickly, pausing only at his door to catch the resolve she would not lose this time. Opening the door, she saw him stir and sit up on the elbow in bed. She walked over to stand by him.

‘Granger?’ Whats ...hey!’ he said, eyes heavily lidded as she pulled back the duvet quickly. He seemed to understand quickly and moved over to allow her space, he could obviously see the flush in her face and her heavy breathing. She lay down facing him, arms crossed in front of her and pulled the duvet up. His pillow was soft, softer than hers she noted, and the down in his duvet much thicker, it was like a marshmallow blanket. She would just sleep here, she knew it would mean she was less likely to have a repeat nightmare. She closed her eyes and tried to focus on her breathing, but could feel his eyes on her. 

‘Go to sleep Malfoy!’ she muttered, not bothering to open her eyes. She felt him thud back down on the mattress and then all she could hear was his breathing.

‘I told you you would slither in!’ he whispered and her eyes shot open to see his smirk.

‘Just go to sleep pig,’ she whispered back and watched him close his eyes with a smile on his face. 

She listened to him while his breathing slowed and his face dropped slightly, peaceful and serene and she soon followed into the most rested sleep she had had all year.

* * *

Notes: Okay - exciting! Finally getting a kiss out of them was difficult and with the ball coming up soon I really hope to get them even closer. Sorry for another depressing flashback but I have so many that I want to fit in that fill in the gaps between the end of the war and all the things we didn't get to see. Please keep reading and sending me your love, it's keeping me going :)


	8. Chapter 8

They had settled onto the plush cream sofa in their living room, her legs tucked under her and her nose burrowed into a particularly interesting evaluation of the charm code that he had brought home with him. They often spent their evenings like this; with her poring over his daily work and habitually checking for loopholes and errors. He did not ask her to do it, it was something she now did more out of habit than anything. Of course, the bickering over corrections still took place; well they had before she had told him.

She had been nervous to give him the news; not that she was unsure about his level of happiness at the announcement, just that he had a tendency to be a little possessive and she did not know if he was prepared to share her just yet. It had been a Saturday and as was his usual custom, he was sat at the dining room table organising his weekly files. She had only taken the enchantment that morning, the spell burning gold as she had cast it and a nervous tickle had crept into her throat. 

As he had leant over the parchment, his palms planted flat on the table for balance and a frown upon his face, the top of his shirt billowing open; Hermione felt the familiar warmth in her chest. 

‘See something you like Granger!’ he had commented, without even looking up.

‘That’s Malfoy to you!’ she had said, trying to make her voice sound calm, it clearly hadn’t worked as he had looked up at her with narrow eyes.

‘Spill!’ he said

‘What?’ she asked playfully.

‘You have something to tell me. Three years of blissful marriage and you think I don’t know when you have a secret you're just itching to get out.’

‘That’s not even true!’ she had batted back, hoping that if she bantered with him for long enough the tickle would subside.

‘How long did you keep the secret that Ron had bought an engagement ring? If I remember correctly...it was half an hour!’ He had said, throwing down his quill and bringing himself up to full height. She had seen his eyes flash down to her hands as they were wringing together.

‘Okay, now I am worried!’ he said quickly. She took a deep breath.

‘I’m pregnant!’ she had said in a small voice, turning her chin slightly as if she was preparing herself for his answer.

He had just stood there, blinking at her and the back of her head had asked her whether he had been stunned. But then his face cracked into the biggest smile she was sure she had ever seen on him - it almost looked out of place - and he had practically run around the table to pull her into his arms.

‘You sure?’ he asked her, joy in his voice.

‘Pretty sure,’ she smiled, pulling away and holding his hands.

‘Have you told Ron and Harry?’ he asked, and she scoffed.

‘Why would I tell them before you?’ she asked, a little hurt at the idea.

‘I don’t know, you guys are weird. Oh Merlin!’ he ran his hand through his hair. ‘You are exquisite’. 

She smiled at him across the sofa, his face still as he flicked through a Wizengamot Official magazine. She rolled her eyes thinking about how much he loved to stay on top of politics and returned to his work in front of her. 

‘This line of charm is wrong!’ she sighed, circling it with her quill and passing it over to him. 

She watched him look over his book at her from the other corner of the sofa, one foot hanging off the edge, the other dug into a cushion for support. She saw his jaw tighten as he sighed and took it from her, his eyes narrowing over her suggestion.

‘I will look at it tomorrow!’ he said, a slight strain in his voice.

‘What? No comeback? No argument?’ she asked, surprised at him.

‘No!’ he said, voice still tight. But then he smiled, placing his magazine on the floor and leaned forwards, crawling towards her and placing a soft kiss on her lips. Leaning back, he placed his forehead against hers and sighed.

‘Don’t think this affection will get you out of more corrections!’ she warned him. He chuckled and kissed her again.

‘Think again Malfoy!’ he smiled and raised his hand to her hair, deepening the kiss. She let out a small moan and let her head fall back as he moved to her neck. 

Since her announcement, he had not been able to keep his hands off for her long. At first, it had been sweet and she had relished in the attention thinking that he was just so pleased with her; but the more she swelled the more he wanted her. It was almost needy and predatory the way he would look at her of an evening. She felt his hand brush her shoulder softly, running his hand over her pyjama straps and pushing them off, his lips following the same path. Her breathing increased, her lips falling open as she moaned into him. Then she hissed as she felt a small appendage kick her in the ribs.

He jumped back, concern over his face as she moved her thumb to massage the area.

‘Everytime you try and get me excited,’ she said ‘I have my internal organs disfigured.’

‘Well,’ he smiled at her, placing his lips on her stomach ‘that is because I think this little scrub is even more possessive than I am.’

* * *

‘So you all need to be in the Great Hall tomorrow after lunch to set up for the event, we promised Professor McGonagall that the prefects would help.’ Draco was announcing to the room of excited looking students.

‘Yeah, and please make sure to arrive on time -we want to get it all done so we can enjoy the rest of the afternoon getting ready.’ Ginny shouted out, getting a wolf whistle from Blaise.

‘Thanks everyone, see you tomorrow!’

As the prefects started to file out, Ginny wandered over to Hermione, who was currently checking a large to-do list. 

‘Need any other help?’ Ginny asked, indicating the list in her hands.

‘No, I think Draco and I have this under control. But, your help in getting the prefects under order is definitely welcome.’ she smiled.

‘So,  _ Draco _ putting in the man hours?’ Ginny asked, Hermione could hear the dig in her tone.

‘I heard that Weasley!’ Draco shouted across the room where he was currently standing with Theo.

‘It was his idea Gin, he is driven to make it succeed.’

‘Talking of success Hermione,’ laughed Theo as he came over and slung an arm over her shoulder, she could see Draco eyeing them from his perch on the end of the sofa. ‘Managed to find yourself a date for the ball?’ he grinned down at her.

Her eyes flickered momentarily over to Draco, who was still staring at them, his hands clenched on his own knees. Since the night of the kiss, neither of them had spoken about it. Did she still think about his lips all over her? Of course, she was a human. But it was far more important that they were effective Heads and not distracted by nightmares or kissing. She had, of course, surprised even herself when she had climbed into bed with him, bodies turned towards each other, not touching. But, she had never felt so calm hearing his breath and feeling his slight movements as he pulled on the sheets. And that hadn’t been the only time. A few nights after that, he had come to her room and knocked on the door, when she had opened it he looked like a lost puppy and she had let him in and they had both curled under her duvet this time, again inches away, not talking, not touching. And now, three weeks later, they were both sleeping with their bedroom doors between the bathroom open in case of night time wandering.

Hermione found it comforting, knowing that she had found someone she could trust almost about as much as Harry and Ron. There was no judgement, no scandal and no snide remarks in the mornings. But now, he was boring holes into her as Theo chatted into her ears.

‘So what about it Granger?’ Theo jabbed her in the ribs.

‘Sorry?’ she asked, lost in thought about the boy across the room.

‘A date? With me? Tonight?’ he laughed, Draco looked like he wanted to punch someone. ‘Just as friends!’ he laughed again.

‘Sorry Theo, Draco and I…’ Draco’s eyes looked wide as she began to talk and his name dripped off her lips. ``We are going to be so busy that I will not be a good date. You should take someone fun.’ He looked a little taken aback, but shrugged,

‘What about it Weaslette, fancy a go?’ he asked her.

‘Already taken Nott!’ she smiled and kissed Hermione on the cheek before walking out.

‘Can a reasonably attractive man not catch a break around here?’ he threw up his arms and looked between her and Draco.

‘Yes. It’s too bad you are not reasonably attractive!’ Draco drawled at him.

  
  


When Hermione walked into the Great Hall on Christmas Eve to start helping the decorations, she was pleased to see Draco was already there and having a conversation with the caterers. She looked around to see the whole hall busy with prefects; all being bossed around by Ginny.

‘Hermione, where do you want spare napkins put?’ asked a voice and she turned to see Neville carrying what looked like a million napkins.

'These are spare?’ she asked, looking at the box. ‘Oh, put them in the store cupboard please.’

‘Ah, Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy, a word please?’ asked Professor McGonagall as she swept into the room. Draco excused himself from the caterers and walked over to stand next to Hermione, his elbow brushing hers as he stood there.

‘Everything going well?’ she asked them.

‘Yes Professor, everything is running on schedule.’

‘Glad to hear it Mr Malfoy, can you please run me through the timings again?’ she asked Hermione.

‘Event starts at 7pm with students from all years arriving between then and 7.30pm. Christmas Dinner starts at 8pm. Tables cleared at 9.00 and dancing to begin. First, second and third years are to be dismissed at 10.30pm. Event end for later years at 12.30pm.’

‘It was Hermione’s idea for the staggered event Professor,’ Draco quickly added.

‘Very good! It would appear that the two of you have everything in hand. What a great pair you make. Am I to understand that I am to make a speech at the beginning of the feast?’ she asked.

‘Only if you think it is appropriate Professor’

They spent the rest of the afternoon checking and double checking everything; making sure there were enough seats for the feast, checking name places, signing in the band and taste testing the food. Draco made a point of asking her to check his checking, laying a hand on her shoulder blade as she tasted the desert, looking at him with joy as the ice cream flavour melted down her throat. She had never particularly enjoyed getting ready for events, and recent ones had always been overshadowed by horrific memories.

  
  


_ She looked in the mirror and sighed, taking in her reflection. She stood in a black ball gown, cut off the shoulder with lace sleeves that ended just above her wrists. The dress had cost a fortune, it was fitting of the grand event but the sight made her look empty. Her hair was pulled back, her curls fitted into a loose bun, some tendrils falling over her face. She felt remotely out of place, stood in Ginny’s bedroom with this dress on. There was a knock on the door and in the reflection she saw Harry poke his head around the corner. _

_ ‘Hey, are you almost ready we…’ he stopped when he saw her and opened the door fully. ‘You look amazing!’  _

_ She gave him a sad smile and turned to face him. He was wearing black dress robes with a lovely scarlet bow tie, that was slightly lopsided. She walked forward and fixed it for him, letting her hand fall on his shoulder as he took a deep breath and sighed, looking down to the floor. _

_ ‘Are you sure about going to this?’ she asked him for maybe the fourth time that week. _

_ ‘We have to. They are honouring us!’ he said. _

_ All three of them had apparated into the entrance hall of the ceremony hall, adjusting their outfits before moving towards the door. Hermione stopping only to brush a feather from Ron’s dress robes. Before Harry pushed the door he looked to the both of them, his eyes trying to fight the sadness that emanated from both his friends. Upon opening the door, purple smoke erupted from the press cameras, snapping them at every moment. _

_ There were questions and shouting followed by an incessant amount of meeting and greeting escorted by Kingsley. People were thanking her, wishing her well, demanding to know what she thought the trio would do next. She tried to be polite, could hear the boys doing the same, but it was so difficult to be around so many people so close to the end of the war. _

_ ‘At a time like this,’ Kingsley was announcing to the room as they sat at their dinner table, ‘it is so important to honour those that have fought for the rights of, not only their fellow wizards, but for muggles everywhere. Tonight, we are here to celebrate three young people who have shown the world that friendship, bravery and an uncompromising belief in the truth can truly save us all.’ _

_ ‘I would like you all to join me in applause as we award the Order of Merlin: First Class to Mr Ronald Weasley, Miss Hermione Granger and Mr Harry Potter.’ _

_ The room erupted with applause as she made her way up to the stage, flanked by the two boys, and stared out on the hall. She could see witches and wizards standing to get a look at them and her stomach was filled with shame. All she had done was do what was right. Why was she being congratulated with honours when her duty was to her best friend. _

_ ‘We would like to thank everyone for their love and support here today,’ began Harry as he addressed the room. They had made the decision that he should be the only one to talk, Hermione knew that she would find it too difficult. _

_ ‘While we are so honoured to have be receiving this award, we would like to recognise those that do not stand with us today. There are people who fought beside us, fought harder than us and lost more than us. It is so important that we move forward from here and never look back, never succumb to the darkness that we have fought for. The future is now ours to create and I, for one, am looking forward to enjoying every moment I can. Before I step down, I want to take this final moment to thank my friends Ron and Hermione for their unwavering faith in me. Without them I know I would have given up, they are the best of me and this award would mean nothing if they were not by my side.’ _

_ Another round of applause was heard as he stepped back and Kingsley moved down the line pinning the badges to their outfits. Hermione looked down at the green ribbon pin and smiled, knowing that all those that helped them were looking down on them today. She felt the boys take her hands as they left the stage, the empty feeling somewhat a little less. _

  
  


As she made her way down to the Great Hall at 7.45pm, a bundle of nerves shot through her. She had wanted to arrive earlier but it had taken her so much longer to get ready than anticipated and when she had run out of the common room, Draco had already left. This would be the second time in her Hogwarts career that she made an entrance in a prom dress and it terrified her. The last time had also not ended the way she had wanted it to, with anger and shouting. All she wanted to do was have some fun knowing that this might be her last chance in the castle to enjoy an evening like this.

The silver material of her dress swung against her legs like water. It was glorious and she could not have been happier with her choice. Ginny had seen it in a shop in Hogsmeade at the last weekend they had been down there and had insisted that she buy it. Originally, she had not wanted to spend so much money but, then had been made to try it on and had fallen in love with it. The dress was completely silver, adorned with glitter and jewels. It was low cut into a low v-shape on her chest with small straps across her shoulder. The material plunged down her back, leaving it mostly uncovered and felt like silk, fitting her curves perfectly. She had tried to manage her curls, pinning them so that they fell softly down her back. The slight tickle of her hair kept her grounded as she neared the entrance hall.

Ginny was already there, looking stunning in an emerald green gown and perfectly straightened hair. She was talking to Neville, who was wearing simple dress robes and holding hands with Luna, who was wearing pink. 

‘You guys look so lovely!’ she said as she came up to them, re-adjusting her elbow length silver gloves.

‘Hermione you look…’ Neville started but blushed a deep shade of red and stopped.

‘I think he wants to say lovely.’ smiled Luna.

‘You know you don’t need to put on this show for Malfoy - he already loves you!’ joked Ginny in a sing-song voice.

‘Come on, we better get in, dinner starts soon.’

The hall looked even more magical than it had when she had left earlier that day. The night sky now reflected in the ceiling gave the room the most magical look, and instead of snow falling from the sky, it looked like glitter. All the students were moving to their places around the smaller round tables that had replaced the house tables and she made her way near the front to her place. Draco was already sitting there next to Theo, who seemed to have gestured that Hermione was here because he turned his head to look at her. And just like in a movie, he did a double take looking at her in awe. Despite her mind's resistant reminder that they were friends, the way his eyes were looking at her made her want to run over and finish their kiss from weeks earlier. 

‘Evening!’ she smiled as she got to them.

‘Hermione, you stunner!’ Theo cried as she sat down next to Draco, who she saw elbowed Theo and gave him a look of thunder.

Neville and Luna wandered off to find their place, but Ginny made her way to sit next to Theo.

‘Joining me Weasley, where is your date?’ he asked her.

‘Right here!’ came a voice and they saw Blaise pushing through some people to get to them. Theo looked like he had been hit over the head by a troll, but Draco and Herione just smiled. As the three of them started bickering, he used this chance to lean over and whisper in her ear.

‘Granger! You never cease to amaze me. You look beautiful’ She had to extinguish the dragon.

‘Welcome to the Christmas Ball,’ Professor McGonagall spoke over them and a hush fell upon the hall. ‘Tonight is a fantastic reminder of what you students can accomplish in a short space of time. With the heartache of last year a close memory, the bonds that you have forged and will continue to forge this year, shows the Wizarding World that peace can only be achieved through love. Though we separate you into houses, our intention is never to divide you with hatred. Take tonight as a shining example of the joys that come from friendship. Enjoy your evening.’ As she finished, the tables in front of them were filled with food.

It was a wonderful night full of dancing and eating and the only thing she really wished was that Harry and Ron were here to actually enjoy a Hogwarts ball, rather than sulk the whole time. Well, there was one other wish, but she did not dare think about it. She had sat down at their table for something to drink, when she heard the bell chime midnight and the last song of the evening being played. 

‘Would you like to dance with me?’ she heard and turned to see Draco stood there.

He looked dashing, his robes entirely black, slim fit and perfect. If anything, he looked taller and broader than usual and she could already feel the dragon stirring within her. He was holding out a palm towards her and he smiled when she nodded her head, taking his hand in hers. He led her to the dance floor where there were several other people dancing, including Neville and Luna and Ginny and Blaise. The song was beautifully slow and sad and she tried to ignore the stares of people around them as she took her in his arms and began to dance around.

‘You are a good dancer Malfoy,’ she smiled at him.

‘And you are a terrible one, Granger. Thank god I can keep us both in time.’ he laughed back.

The feeling of his hand in hers, his other hand on her bare back was like fire, smouldering against her skin. The smell of his cologne spinning in her head. She could feel every finger tip, every slight graze as they moved around. Some people around the dance floor were not even trying to hide their stares and she dropped her head slightly to stop thinking about them, but suddenly felt his hand under her chin, lifting her face to stare at him.

‘No one can make you feel inferior without your consent,’ he said to her, his face serious.

‘Eleanor Roosevelt?’ she asked him, surprised that he would know that.

‘A great woman...a great witch. Not unlike yourself, why hang your head when you have done and seen things that most of them will never experience.’

‘Self preservation,’ she laughed, he did not join her.

‘Is that the same reason why you ran away?’ he asked her, not looking her in the eye as he continued to lead them around the dance floor. She felt her chest ache at the memory, why would he choose now to bring it up?

‘Something like that.’ she muttered. He sighed, pulling her closer to him. Feeling his body against her again was like being able to breathe, she did not think she would ever forget the feeling.

‘Is it the same reason why you don’t lay a finger on me when you climb into my bed?’ he whispered down at her, so close to her that she could feel his breath on. Her legs began to tremble again.

‘You don't lay a finger on me either,’ she whispered back.

‘If I started, I don’t think I would be able to stop,’ he said and she shot her face to him, questioningly, wanting to push more. But the song was over and he was bowing down, kissing her gloved hand.

‘A pleasure, as always, Miss Granger!’ he smiled and sauntered off, leaving her standing alone, knowing that this was payback for what she had done to it.

All the way back to her common room she thought about his words, would she have wanted him to stop if he had touched her? What was the price she was willing to pay to press down her feelings for much longer. Her feet ached from her heels and when she slipped them off in her bedroom, she felt relief. Walking into the bathroom she looked at her reflection and sighed, dressed like this she hardly recognised herself. To be honest, since her feelings for him had increased, she had not recognised herself. Could she let go with him? It was not that she thought he was lying or playing her, it was that she so desperately wanted him not to be. She pulled her gloves off, glancing at her scar, and threw them on the floor next to the pooling material of her dress and took down her hair, shaking out the neated curls and looking back. There she was.

‘I prefer your hair like that anyway,’ his voice came from his own bedroom door and she looked in the mirror to see him standing there, his black bow tie undone, his top button unfastened.

‘Did you mean it?’ she asked him, turning to face him and leaning against the bathroom wall.

‘Yes, curls really do it for me,’ he smiled.

‘I meant what you said while we were dancing. About if you touched me.’

‘Unless you haven’t noticed, I am desperate to touch you and worry that I won’t be able to stop if you allow me to.’

She shifted, uncomfortable under his stare. She did not want to be wearing a dress like this when he was looking at her like that. If she were in her uniform she would be able to deal with it, to pass it off. He stepped forwards, his body within inches of her, but she placed a hand on his torso to stop him.

‘If you kiss me,’ she said looking at him, ‘I don’t think I would be able to stop this time.’

‘Is that a bad thing?’ he asked her, worry all over his face.

‘Absolutely not,’ she whispered and he smiled down at her as she leant in to touch her lips to his.

It was as if someone had breathed life into her, given her the need to survive when she felt his lips move against hers. The hand that had been on his torso was now gripping onto his shirt as she pulled his towards her, pinning her against the bathroom wall. His hand went to rest on either side of her head as she deepened the kiss and he made a small moan, a noise that rippled through her. Before her rational brain came anywhere near this moment, she moved her hands up to his shoulders, pushing his cloak off. He smiled against her lips and he moved a hand into her hair.

Her fingers were trying to remove the buttons on his shirt and she got so frustrated at how long it was taking that she ripped his shirt. He stopped kissing her and looked down shocked, breathing heavy as she placed her hands on his skin for the first time, her fingertips tracing along the thin white scars there. They made eye contact and held it for a long time, Hermione pulling her bottom lip to bite on it before she reached behind her and pulled down the zip of her dress. The noise made his eyes wide and he smirked at her before diving back down to catch her lips in his own again.

It was an exhilarating battle of hands and fingers, all trying to touch everything all at one. She untucked his shirt and pulled it off, laying a kiss on his chest while he buried his face into her neck. She moved her hand to his belt, undoing it, when he laid a hand over hers trying to stop her.

‘Please don’t’ she whispered against his cheek.

‘I don’t want you to regret anything.’ he whispered against her neck, the feel of his breath roaring against her sensitive skin.

‘I won't. I don’t’ she whimpered and again, pulled at his belt. This time he let her take it and open his trousers, them dropping to the floor. 

She took his hand and led him to his own bedroom, stopping next to the bed and taking one of the straps of her dress off her shoulders. He moved forward quickly, planting a kiss where it had been and letting his own hand remove the other strap, the dress falling onto the floor. He moved his hands over her naked waist and down to her bum, gripping it tightly; she moaned. He picked her up and placed her on his bed. She shifted back and he crawled towards her, snaking a hand round her waist and pulling her to him, slipping his head down and capturing one of her achingly hard nipples in her mouth. She groaned against him, grinding her hips against his thigh. She could feel him hard against her leg. The idea that she was doing this to him made her keen and moan. He chuckled softly as he lay her down, placing yet another kiss on her lips.

She was liquid, everything he was doing was melting her. He knew just where to touch her, just where she would like it, what would make her make those sinful sounds that were spilling from her mouth. His tongue worked its way into her mouth and he moved against her like he was a god. She could think of nothing else but having to be even closer to him, how she wanted even more of him. 

Feeling her Gryffindor bravery rear its head, she slipped her thumbs into her underwear and slipped them off. The movement stilled him and he drew back, staring deep into her eyes. She tried to do a very Draco-ish smirk before leaning forwards to put her thumbs in his underwear. She paused and waited for him to nod before she slowly slid them down and he kicked them off.

She took him in her hand, he was hot and thick and the way his eye fluttered closed as she touched him made her dragon roar with pride. She smiled as she kissed him and started moving her hand.

‘You’re going to kill me Granger!’ he groaned as he threw off her hand and leant forwards, placing his own hand between her legs. 

‘Oh God!’ she moaned as he touched her. This was nothing like when she touched herself, it was fire and ice and everything. She felt like she could do anything with his fingers on in, in her and she wanted it to never end. 

And suddenly, she was laying flat on his sheets as he moved up on top of her and positioned himself between her legs. Looking up at him in that moment, she had never seen anyone look so beautiful. His eyes were dark and lustful, his hair dishevelled and sticking up from where she had run her hands through it, his lips were red and swollen. He looked like heaven. And he felt like it too. She felt him position himself against her, the pressure already building within her and with a gentle kiss he pushed himself into her.

She hissed at the invasion, the sting of the stretch; clenching her eyes shut, one hand grabbing and twisting the sheet, the other flying up to his chest. There was pain, pain she had expected and had been prepared for; but her noise had stopped him and when she opened her eyes his were wide and shocked.

‘Don’t stop!’ she whimpered under him, as a stray tear fell into her hairline. 

‘You didn’t say…’ he looked devastated but she covered his lips with a kiss.

‘Please don’t stop’ she said when the kiss finally stopped.

He steadied himself on his elbows, bringing a hand to move her hair out of her eyes and stroke his thumb across her cheek. She willed him to move, wanted to feel him, to end the sting she felt and as he withdrew, he kissed her. 

Before long, they had set a steady pace and she could feel her insides squirming and building toward something incredible. His face was buried in her neck and her hands in his hair as she moaned with each movement he made in her, hitting spots she never knew existed. She started to clench around him; she could hear him groaning, and he moved a hand away from near her head to reach between them. It met the little bundle of nerves there and she nearly died right then and there, the feel of him inside her and the feel on his fingers working her to the edge were magnificent. 

‘Oh god! She breathed against his skin, trying to catch her breath. And then she was falling, crying his name as she went, holding onto him as if he were the last thing on earth. He kept moving, riding her through her orgasm, before he too went over the edge. He buried his face in her hair and she vaguely heard ‘Hermione,’ fall off his lips as he finished and collapsed on top of her.

They lay like that for ages, entangled in each other, breathing heavy. She had a smile upon her face as she stroked her palm up and down his spine. Once he had caught his breath, Draco pulled back removing himself from her and she hissed and whined at the feeling of stretch and loss. Lying next to her, he dragged her into his arms and placed a kiss on her forehead.

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asked her in a small voice. ‘That you were...that you hadn’t.’

‘Because then you wouldn’t have done it,’ she smiled against his skin.

She looked up at him to smiled at his concerned face,

‘Merry Christmas Draco,’ she whispered, placing a kiss on his lips.

‘Merry Christmas Hermione.’

* * *

Notes: I am so happy I finally made it to this chapter. A lot of plot, a bit if smut. Cannot wait to continue it. Love you all.


	9. Chapter 9

She sat on the end of her bed, rubbing the heels of her hands forcefully against her eyes trying beyond reason to steady her breath. She had awoken maybe 10 minutes before, her lower back searing in pain with the irrational thought to escape. Her mind was screaming at her to flee, to escape from the feeling. She shook her hands out, willing the thoughts away and turning to see him lying there. He had been asleep for hours, she could tell by the position of the moonlight streaming in their bedroom window. He looked peaceful, almost ethereal; she was so jealous of that.

There had not been many times in her life where the panic to escape had been so clear in her mind. She had first felt it when she was 7 and had been at a birthday party of a friend when the cake had exploded and she vividly remembered not being able to breathe. She had run, her feet carrying her without her being able to see. When her father had found her hours later in the park, she was crying and shaking. In third year, when she had seen the Werewolf heading towards her past self, she had lost control and before she knew it was howling in the direction before Harry could get to her. There had been the time with him….and now.

Finally, she couldn't take it anymore. She leapt from the edge of the bed, grabbed her wand and wandered downstairs. She saw his parchment on the sofa, ripped a section off before scrawling ‘ _ harry _ ’ on it, casting it to the bedroom and stepping into the fireplace, watching the green flames engulf her. As soon as she stepped into the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, she let out a relieved sigh and her shoulder sagged. She heard noises upstairs; knowing she must have triggered the visitor alarm, she waited patiently. She almost chuckled to herself when she heard them, the door banding open, the scrambling down the stairs. It was Harry who slid around the doorway first, wand pointed at her, his eyes wide and jaw locked with gritted teeth. He immediately dropped his wand when he saw her.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked, rushing towards her his arms outstretched, looking her up and down for signs of damage.

‘Yeah..I…’ she started, but at that moment Ron tripped around the doorway 

‘Hermione?’ he asked, a confused look. ‘Are you okay?’

She nodded and, suddenly feeling very foolish, explained why she had burst into the kitchen in the middle of the night. When she had finished, they both visibly relaxed, Ron turned running his hands through his long hair and Harry laid a hand on his chest.

‘My god, you scared me!’ he sighed as he took her hand and led her to the kitchen table.

‘I’m sorry to have woken you up,’ she looked between the two of them, but twinged as a shot of pain went up her spine. She saw Ron and Harry exchange a worried look. ‘I’m fine, just uncomfortable. I needed to see you.’

‘Do you want us to message…’Ron suggested.

‘Please don’t!’ she begged him, reaching a hand and laying it on his forearm as he went to get up, ‘He will only worry and there isn’t anything to worry about. Plus, he’s sleeping!’ 

‘Which you should be,’ Harry said to her.

‘I’ve got this really strange feeling in my chest,’ she looked at them, her mind pleading that they didn’t think she was crazy. ‘That something bad is happening.’

A childhood of war would do that to anyone, she had told herself for the last week. The pressing feeling on her chest, the inability to sleep, to focus or stay in one place. With the tension in her body she could almost hear the buzzing of her bones.

‘I’ll make tea,’ Harry said, getting up and running a hand down her back. It was soothing and she breathed in at his touch, closing her eyes and laying her forehead on her hands in front of her. She did not notice Harry send his Patronus out of the room.

* * *

She heard it before she opened her eyes; the morning. The small song of a robin hopping along the windowsill outside and the faint whistle of a winter breeze making it through the gaps in the old castle windows. Eyes still closed, she felt a small smile creep across her lips as the memory of the night before flooded her, the touches, the smell of him, the sounds he made, the sounds she made. She had been right, as she opened her eyes she was met with the light of the morning tumbling in through the window across the room. She took in the sight; the open bathroom door where she could spot his cloak and shirt, her dress in a pile by the foot of the bed, her underwear unceremoniously thrown across the floor.

She had never really been one of those girls that thought about how she would lose her virginity, had not planned anything or read too much into the romance novels she had been privy to in her youth. She had always rolled her eyes when sharing a dormitory with Parvati and Lavender when they would talk about such things, how they would want rose petals and enchanted floating candles. She had been so preoccupied over the last few years that it had been pushed to the back of her mind. But now, she could not imagine it in any other way and, surprisingly, she could not have imagined it with anyone else. The way he had held her, the small touches, the kisses. Even the way he had brushed her hair out of her eyes. She did not want to sound cliche or girly, but she felt almost powerful.

She smiled again, moving herself to turn over to face him; hopefully she would get a chance to bury herself into his chest again. But as she turned over, the smile dropped slightly when she saw that the bed was empty. She looked around the room but could not see him. Pulling herself up on her elbow, she looked towards the bathroom again.

‘Draco?’ she called out, waiting for a response that did not come.

Immediately, she felt a knot in the pit of her stomach, but tried to undo it. He might have just gone to get something from the common room. Suddenly, acutely sensitive to her own nakedness, she brought the sheet up to cover herself and moved carefully from his room to her own. As she walked she became aware of a new sensation, a slight throbbing between her legs that she tried to ignore. Finding some jeans and a jumper she pulled them on and made her way to the door. She quickly checked herself in the mirror,  _ you want to look nice if he’s down there _ , her brain told her, but then she got mad at herself and left the room down the stairs.

But the common room was empty too. No sign of him. His work was still neatly piled on his table, untouched from two nights previous. His jacket was missing from the hook it usually hung on and then she smelt it. The smell washed over her, and the knot became tighter. It was almost as if she moved in slow motion, turning to see the plate on the coffee table, her face dropped as she moved towards the pile of scones that sat there. She swallowed hard seeing the note placed in front of it, turning on her heel and storming out of the room.

_ Sorry.  _ One word, that was all it had said.  _ What is he sorry for? _ Again, her mind went crazy and she tried to suppress her thoughts and her crazy breathing as she walked through the castle. Maybe he was sorry that he had to go out, maybe he was with the boys, maybe he was just clearing away from last night.  _ Yes, that would be it,  _ she thought as she headed towards the Great Hall. It was full of students eating lunch, she had not realised it was that late already, and the hall was just the same as it used to be; four long tables, only it was covered in Christmas decoration.

‘Merry Christmas Granger!’ Blaise smiled at her when she walked up to him, noticing that he was not with them.

‘Yeah, Merry Christmas’ she said, looking over her shoulders for a sight of him. But there was nothing.

‘Bit of a late rise for you today.’ Theo smiled. ‘Draco was up ages ago.’

‘Have you seen him?’ she asked hurriedly and they eyed her suspiciously.  _ Okay, calm down Granger.  _ ‘Where is he?’ she asked in a calmer tone.

‘I think he went to see his mother,’ Blaise said to her.

‘Yeah, he said something about making a mistake? Or...there was a mistake... or something?’ Theo added.

Hermione stood perfectly still, listening to them talk at her about the ball and how great the night had been, not really hearing a word they were saying. She felt like the floor had gone from underneath her, she felt cold and sick. The throbbing sensation was adding to the sick feeling in her stomach and she took in a long breath. 

‘Hermione are you alright?’ Theo asked her. She looked at him with a small smile, plastered across her face trying to make it real.

‘Er...yeah...I gotta go…’ she said, but did not move. Her legs felt a little weak.

‘If we see him shall we tell him you were looking for him?’ he asked her, looking at her strangely.

‘Erm…’ it was like she couldn’t think straight. ‘Um...yes...no...I don’t know.’

And she walked. She walked, her feet taking her without her brain telling them. The feeling in her chest was horrible, like a pressure bubbling inside her. It was like the moment before you cry, but it wouldn’t spill over. She didn’t feel safe and that scared her, she was alone and her mind was racing. She thought about going to Ginny, but the idea of talking to her about it seemed silly. She was a friend, but she would give advice and right now she just needed comfort. Her mind was only screaming the names of people she trusted beyond anything.

Before she knew it she was knocking on Professor McGonagall’s office, the wooden door before her overbearing and authoritarian. She heard a noise and opened it, moving through the office and standing in front of the desk. Professor McGonagall was sat with red robes on, the colour of the most perfect cherry, and she smiled as she looked up at Hermione.

‘Ah Miss Granger, Merry Christmas. I wanted to tell you how great I thought….’ but she faded off at the sight of Hermione before her. She was wringing her hands together, almost shaking from the effort to stay still.

‘Miss Granger, are you okay?’ she stood, her voice filled with concern. Hermione swallowed hard.

‘I need to go to Grimmauld Place.’ she blurted out, her voice far steadier than she expected.

‘Grimmauld Place? I didn’t know you were expected, you should have made it known.’

‘I wasn’t Professor. I’m sorry that I can't explain more - I just really want to go and see Harry and Ron.’ Maybe the panic in her voice was obvious, as Professor McGonagall came around the desk to stand in front of her.

‘Miss Granger, is there something you need to tell me?’ her voice was softer than she had ever heard it and Hermione felt the bubbling in her chest rising slowly. She did not want to cry here.

‘Nothing Professor.’ she took a breath. ‘’Christmas is a difficult time and I would just...feel more settled around the both of them. I will, of course, make sure to keep in contact with you.’

Hermione looked at the face of her headmistress and saw her face soften.. She was scanning her face, looking for signs of distress but Hermione tried to stay calm and hoped that she would allow her to leave.

‘Okay Miss Granger,’ she said after a long time. ‘Do you need to get your things?’ she asked slowly.

‘No Professor, I have ample belongings there already.’

She stepped towards the fireplace and waited for her to sprinkle the floo powder in the grate. Her mind was lost in thoughts of Draco; his lips, his hands, his voice. She tried to push them away as she stepped in and said ‘Grimmauld Place.’

As she stepped out of the fire in the kitchen she saw Harry and Ron were sitting at the table, still in their pyjamas. They leapt up when the fire had turned green and now were frozen at the sight of their best friend standing in their fire.

‘Hermione - what a great surprise!’ Ron said, smiling at her. His face fell as she stood silently in front of them. His face threatened to burst the bubble she had been doing so well to keep closed. She breathed through her mouth, her chest rising and falling.

‘Hermione…’ Harry said slowly. ‘What’s happened?’ he asked her.

‘I slept with him.’ she said.

‘Oh!’ was Harry’s reply, realisation spreading across his face.

And just like that, the bubble burst. The pressure on her chest exploded and she began to uncontrollably sob, bringing her hands to her face to hide herself from them.

‘Oh!’ Harry repeated, his tone shocked at the outburst. He moved towards her and she felt two pairs of arms wrap around her. 

‘Hey, hey. It’s okay!’ she felt Ron murmur against her hair.’Please don’t cry!’ he whispered as he rubbed his hand up and down her arm.

But she couldn’t seem to stop. She felt like a fool, an idiot; how could she have been so stupid to believe every word he had said to her. He may not be a Death Eater anymore, but he sure as hell had always been a manipulative bastard. Her eyes were filled with tears, blurring her vision and she felt her head being pulled up and saw Harry in front of her, his hands gently trying to wipe away the water streaming down her face.

‘Hermione, please calm down. Please.’ 

With shaking breath she was able to calm herself down long enough for the tears to subside and lean her forehead against Ron’s chest while Harry walked away. She heard the sound of the kettle being put on the stove and she smiled, knowing that his first reflex when she was upset was always to make tea. Ron sat her down at the head of the kitchen table he sat down next to her; soon enough Harry had joined them opposite Ron with a steaming mug of hot, sweet tea. She took a sip, letting the hot liquid pour down her throat, it seemed to run down and settle in her soul. As she lowered the mug, they were both staring at her with solemn faces. 

‘Hermione, what happened?’ Ron asked tentatively, treading carefully to make sure she did not cry again.

With a big sigh, she explained everything. She started from the train in September and went on to talk about how Theo and Nott were in her study group, and then how Draco had become a good friend, how they shared secrets and how they both supported each other through their nightmares. She thought it would be odd telling the story to the both of them, but their faces were surprisingly neutral, even when she told them about the first kiss, the comments he made to her and then about the night before. At the end, she wanted to bury her face in her hands again, but she noticed that Harry had taken her hand in his and was gently squeezing it. They sat in the silence for a few moments, just the sound of their breathing filling the air, almost reminiscent of how she went to sleep the night before. But she jumped out of the thought as Ron smashed a fist down on the table.

‘Ron...’ Harry’s voice sounded soft, settling.

‘I am going to fucking kill him,’ Ron said, as he stood up and moved, looking at if he was heading towards the fire. 

‘Ron, please.’ Hermione said, but Harry was already up and standing in front of the fire, silently shaking his head. Hermione could see the look in his eyes, softly pleading with his friend not to do it.

‘I am not going to stand here Harry and listen to that story and not go and beat the shit out of him. Are you telling me you can?’ he questioned his friend. 

‘I didn’t come here for this, please.’ Hermione said. ‘I just wanted my best friends,’ tears filled her eyes again, and she sighed, not letting them fall.

‘And we are here Hermione,’ came Harry’s soft voice.

Ron backed off, leaning against the kitchen counter, his hands gripping the edge like a vice. Hermione could see that his knuckles were white with the effort. She looked at them both, the two images of protection, the way they always looked when her honour was on the line, especially when challenged by a Malfoy.

_ ‘No one asked your opinion, you filthy little mudblood!’ Malfoy sneered at her across the group of Gryffindors. _

_ She felt the word sting her; like her had hit her with a stinging jinx. She had heard of the word before, seen it jump out from the pages of old textbooks and articles about ancient trials. She had understood its meaning since she had first learnt about it in her first year, but had always been unsure about what the problem was. _

_ In her mind, her blood didn’t have anything to do with how good she was at magic and she had proved that time and time again in both classes and her assistance of Harry against Professor Quirrel. Of course, she would expect someone like Malfoy to use it against her, him and his pureblood family were obviously going to be angry about her and her superior intellect. She had beat him at every test they had taken at Hogwarts. _

_ ‘You’ll pay for that one Malfoy!’ Ron said as he stood behind her.  _

_ He looked enraged and inside, she wanted to smile and cheer for him. Since becoming his friend under somewhat strange circumstances, she had always been wary of Ron and the way in which he spoke to her. She always thought that Ron just put up with her because Harry liked and respected her, but hearing him jump to her defense was akin to being given a knighthood.  _

_ Harry was on the other side of her, dressed in Quidditch robes for the practise he had been going to when this whole argument kicked off. Although he was yet to say anything, she could see that his hands were firsted and his jaw tense, his eyes narrowed towards Malfoy like he wished he could shoot lasers.  _

_ Hermione watched as Ron pulled out his wand and her stomach sunk very fast. She watched him pull back the wand, sellotaped together as it was almost in two pieces, and he shouted ‘EAT SLUGS!’. In a flash, he had been thrown backwards off his feet. _

_ ‘Ron!’ she and Harry had yelled, running after him.  _

_ He was lying on his back, pale faced and clutching at his stomach. She had never seen him look so sick, not even when he had been bitten by Norbert and his arm had turned a nasty shade of green. _

_ ‘Are you okay?’ Harry asked him, trying to help him up. _

_ ‘Ron, say something!’ she pleaded with him. _

_ And all at once, Ron opened his mouth, let out a horrifyingly large bump and a giant slug fell out of his mouth. Hermione nearly vomited at the sight of it as if wiggled away from them slowly. She made eye contact with Harry and saw his face showing the same shock that she felt. _

_ ‘We have to get him to Hagrid!’ he said quickly, ‘He’ll know what to do!’ _

_ She helped Harry heave Ron off the floor and put his arm over her shoulder. They started to walk away but she could hear snickering behind them from the Slytherin Team. She turned around to see Malfoy staring at her, his face smirking at her for the actions of her well-meaning friend. She sighed as she turned back to finish their walk towards the wooden hut on the edge of the forbidden forest. At least, she thought to herself as Harry knocked on the door of the hut, Malfoy would never have anyone who would be willing to defend him like Ron had defended her. _

  
  


‘I’m sorry about ruining your Christmas Day’ she said.

It was hours later and they were all holed up in the living room, squished into the sofa and armchairs, the wizarding wireless playing carols in the background. 

‘It’s not ruined. We are so glad you are here.’ Harry said, from under a thick woolen blanket as he moved his hand to check Ron’s king.

The boys had been expected at Bill and Fleur’s for Christmas Dinner, with the rest of the Weasley's in attendance. Hermione had told them to go and had insisted that she would be okay without them; reading or doing homework. Ron had almost lost it when she suggested it and insisted that she come along with them, that the family would be delighted to see her. But she had said she didn’t want to see anyone and he had fallen silent. Instead, he sent an owl to his brother telling them that a last minute case had come up and unfortunately, they had to work. Harry had immediately agreed and had ordered Indian food from their nearby muggle takeaway and the three of them had settled into a relaxing day or silence. She could tell that Ron had wanted to talk more about the situation she found herself in, but Harry kept giving him a very pointed look.

‘Would you mind if I stayed for the rest of the holidays?’ she asked the both of them in a small voice. Ron’s face snapped to her, as if she had sworn.

‘Where else would you go? You aren’t going back to that castle to stay with him!’ he flared at her.

‘Well…I will have to go back after the holidays!’ she said to him.

‘No, Hermione! Fuck school. Just stay here - that way you don’t have to see him ever again.’

‘Ron, you know that is not an option!’ sighed Hermione, something inside her telling her that she knew he would be like this.

‘Of course you can stay here Hermione!’ Harry said in a loud voice, putting an end to that conversation.

Later that evening she had made her way up to her old room to see that Kreacher had already remade the bed and layed out some books on her bedside table. She smiled as she crawled into bed, wearing only one of Harry’s borrowed t-shirts as make do pyjamas, grabbing the top one of the pile and burying her nose in it. She heard the bedroom door creak open and Harry’s face appeared, tentative and concerned.

‘Do you need anything?’ he asked softly, she smiled and closed the book. He understood the signal and came in, sitting on the edge of the bed facing her.

‘I know that this turning up in your fireplace and sobbing in front of the two of you was super dramatic,’ she sighed. ‘But I am okay and I don’t want you two looking after me like I am an injured bird’ He smiled at her.

‘Noted.’ he said. ‘But honestly, are you okay?’

She thought carefully about her answer. Physically she was absolutely fine, maybe a little tired, but emotionally she was drained.

‘I will be okay soon,’ she offered him and he hung his head, almost as if he was preparing himself for a fight. She did not want to get told off by him right now.

‘Do you want to be with him?’ he asked her. She closed her eyes, not really wanting to see the disappointment in his eyes.

‘I did...then I didn’t. Then I just got carried away with it all. Harry - I am so embarrassed. Why didn’t I just use my brain!’

‘You got swept up in it. No one can blame you Hermione.’

‘But I am smarter than this. He might be in the order now and fighting for us and giving us all the information. Yes, he helped us out of the manor and we all know what would have happened to me if he hadn’t. But...he is still Malfoy!’

‘Yes, except now he has had you.’ he stated, almost bitterly. 

‘What if I told you that I only regret how I feel right now, and that I probably would do exactly the same thing.’ she said quietly. He sighed again, blowing out the air through thin lips.

‘I would probably say you have deeper feelings than you are letting on.’ he smiled at her. She looked away. ‘And that’s okay just don’t expect me to be able to hold Ron back if something like this happens again.’

He got up, placing a kiss on her forehead and left without another word.

They didn’t discuss it again for the rest of the holiday, just spent their time hanging around with each other. The boys played chess while she tried to help them with tactics; she read books while they discussed cases; they went to work while she helped tidy after them and Harry cooked for the three of them every night. Not that she had expected it, but she had no messages from Draco, no attempts to contact her and it made her feel sad. Maybe Harry had been right, she thought to herself as she tidied up the bedroom the night before her return to Hogwarts, maybe she did have feelings for him. Well, she knew she did, she wasn’t the type of person to sleep with someone she didn’t have feelings for. But the ache she felt inside her was something she had not expected. She did not want to go as far as heartbreak, but more that she knew their friendship was ruined. 

It was late but she was desperate for a drink to get her mind off the topic and so started a journey down to the living room where she knew that Harry had a small drinks cabinet. He wouldn’t mind if she had a drink. Padding softly across the wooden hallway from the stairs, she heard something that stopped her dead. A moan. It reverberated across her skin like thunder and she looked around, wondering if she was imagining it. But then she heard it again.

Moving slowly towards the living room, it felt as if her heart was in her throat, wondering what she would find on the other side of the door. Her hand upon it, she pushed it open and the sight that met her made her grin, her eyebrows lifting high on her forehead.

Harry and Ron were laying on the sofa. Kissing. 

Well, Harry was laying on the sofa with Ron on top of him and their kissing was more like a desperate attempt to get inside each other's mouth. Harry’s hand was under Ron’s shirt and she could see Ron’s hand moving down towards Harry’s legs. She quickly coughed as she realised that this might quickly become a more serious situation and she was not a voyeur. At the sounds of her, Ron jumped off Harry and stood up, Harry turned his head to look at her, smiled and sat up on his elbows.

‘Fuck,’ said Ron. ‘I thought you had gone to bed.’ He was running his hands through his hair, his face pale and panic in his voice. She almost loved the sight of him worried about this.

‘I came to get a drink,’ she said, gesturing towards the open drinks cabinet. She laughed, looking at Harry. ‘You told him then?’ she asked laughing, Harry’s face split wide into a large grin as his face turned to Ron, who was looking like he had been stunned.

* * *

Notes: Finally part of the plot I have been aching to get to - Harry and Ron - now I don't have to drop as many hints. :) Enjoy.


	10. Chapter 10

Their hands entwined atop the table as they sat across from her, Ron’s thumb brushing across against the back of Harry’s hand. It wa so small and intimate that she could not help but smile at them.She loved her best friends separately and equally; Ron’s overbearing, loud and dominant traits had put them at odds more times than she could count, but she was always grateful for his swift retribution against those that deem to hurt anyone he loved. Harry, although moody and distant for the majority of their lives, had changed after the war. His protective nature still ran deep but was now paired with a gentleness and understanding that she adored to watch him settle into. But more than the both of them, she loved them together, watching them was like watching true love.

There were not many people in the wizarding world who got to see the couple like this, and she was always honoured to be in that very small group. She had seen them happy at their wedding, when Harry had almost thrown himself at his red haired counterpart. She had seen them beyond stressed when a case was near completion but they couldn’t seem to crack it. She had witnessed heartache on the anniversary of the battle, where Harry had collapsed against his chest, Ron planting a soft kiss on his forehead and holding him until he was ready to face the day. She had seen domestic bliss at a special Harry Potter roast, when they would toast and kiss unabashed; and had privy to their worst days, when Ron would explode and storm out, only to return like a lost puppy hours later in tears, crying for Harry. No matter how lucky she considered herself in her marriage, she knew she was doubly lucky to be present for theirs.

‘What do you mean something bad is going to happen?’ Harry asked her, giving her a pointed look.

‘I don’t know - usually you are the one that can see the future,’ she quipped at him, but apologised almost immediately upon seeing the hand in Ron’s tighten.

‘You are the rational one Hermione,’ said Ron, ‘Just try and pinpoint what is coming your way.’

But that was the worst thing about the feeling that took over her right now, she could not pinpoint it. Although it might have overcome her tonight, it had been sneaking up on her for days. The sore back, the restlessness and the sniping was all to do with it. 

‘Have you spoken to Draco about this?’ Harry asked, his eyes full of sympathy.

‘No…,’she replied in a small voice. ‘I wouldn’t know where to start, he would think that I want to run away. You know how he can jump to conclusions.’ Harry laughed at this, probably thinking about their wedding day when he had to shake Draco down because he thought she would not show up.

‘Yeah well, to give the git his credit, he’s terrified of losing you,’ Ron laughed, getting a side eye from Harry.

Hermione did not know whether Ron would ever truly accept her husband. If the Weasley’s were good for anything, it was to hold a fierce grudge, and no amount of forgiveness from Hermione or acceptance from Harry had done anything to change his mind about the former Slytherin. Hermone was just grateful that rather than the angry comments and snarls from their early relationship, it was just the occasional friendly gripe. 

At that moment, the fireplace in front of her began to glow green and her face snapped to her best friends, trying her best to emanate the anger that filled her.

‘You arseholes…’ she started to say as they began to cower away from her, but she could not finish as she was met by the fuming face of her aforementioned husband.

‘Granger!’ he snarled as he looked at her, both boys in front of her were covering their mouths trying not to laugh at her being told off. ‘Do you know how absolutely terrifying it is to be woken up by a large fucking stag in the bedroom and turning over to find your heavily pregnant wife not there.’

‘I left a note,’ she said, trying not to feel like she was a small child being told off, it did not help that their audience was trying, not successfully, to stifle their sniggers.

‘Oh yes...the small corner of parchment that literally says ‘harry’ on it.’ he smiled sarcastically, holding it up slamming it on the table. He sighed, running his hand through his tousled locks and fell into an annoyed silence. ‘I nearly died!’ he muttered.

‘Tea, Draco?’ Harry asked, seeming to have calmed himself down.

‘Yes please Harry,’ he said and sat down at the kitchen table, still glaring at her with narrow eyes. Hermione tried to focus but the mixture of the uncomfortable pain and the idea that Draco now called him Harry was overwhelming. 

‘Maybe a t-shirt?’ Ron asked, looking down as Draco in only his tracksuit bottoms.

‘Why Weasley? Scared that you might like what you see more than you do Potter?’ he smirked, not breaking eye contact with her.

‘Faded dark mark doesn't get me hot and heavy Malfoy!’ Ron snarled from the kitchen door.

‘Hey!’ warned Harry from the stove, pointing a teaspoon in his direction. ‘Play nice!’ he said, Hermione smiled at the display of domesticity between the two of them.

‘Tell him to play nice!’ Ron whined, but Harry just held his stare until Ron stormed out of the room.

When he returned, Harry was back at the table and Draco had a very black tea in front of him; no milk, no sugar - Hermione liked to think it was one of the few things that remained of his old life. Ron threw an old orange Chudley Cannons t-shirt at him, which Draco rolled his eyes at before throwing it over himself. Suddenly, Hermione could not take the pressure in her spine anymore and jumped up from the table, beginning to circle the kitchen.

‘Love, what is wrong?’ Draco pleaded with her, then looked to Harry.

‘She wouldn’t tell us so I can’t help you with this one,’ he smiled apologetically.

She walked and walked, her feet pounding against the stone floor, feeling the cold on her toes. Sometimes she would stop at a corner and lay her palms against the wall to lean forward, but finding no comfort there, she continued on. She watched the boys watching her, Draco’s eyes following her around like she were magnetised to him. Harry tried to distract them by asking him about work, he answered but his heart wasn’t in it. Ron looked thoroughly fed up about 7 minutes in.

‘Hermione, can you just calm down!’ sighed Ron, obviously irritated with her. She couldn't take it anymore and snapped at him, rounding on him from nowhere. She realised it was almost akin to a lightning storm in the middle of summer, unexpected and not truly welcome.

‘Oh sorry Ronald, I didn’t realise that my panic over being an incredibly pregnant witch who is clearly in a lot of pain was bothering you so much. How about I never come to you when I am upset ever again?’ she shouted at him, then stood breathing hard, feeling as if she were a bull ready to charge. At least she had managed to understand what was causing her to feel this way.

‘And what are you looking at?’ she cried at Harry and Draco who were looking at each other with a sense of knowing that she did not appreciate. Draco raised slowly from his chair and walked tentatively towards her.

‘Love, you're glowing!’ he smiled, and her eyes shot to her hands. She was emitting a faint golden glow and this made the know in her stomach tighten and the panic in her chest get even worse. She knew what this meant, but could not bring herself to say it.

‘My back…’ she said looking back up at him, wide eyed. How had she not realised days ago when it had started?

‘And your overwhelming sense to escape…’ Harry smiled at her as he walked up behind Draco.

She stood, planted to the floor like she was cemented there, a permanent fixture. Draco moved towards her and placed his hands on her arms, gripping her lightly.

‘If you don’t want to go into active labour in your best friends kitchen, I suggest we start to make a move,’ he smiled, almost as if he didn’t believe the moment had arrived either.

‘What? Now?’ Ron cried, jumping to his feet in a panic.

‘We will see you later,’ Harry grinned down at her, placing a small kiss on the side of her head and leading her and Draco towards the fireplace.

‘What?’ she cried, looking between the three men in her life with panic. ‘You are coming too…’

‘Hermione, don’t be gross!’ Ron sighed. ‘I don’t wanna see that!’

‘Please, I need you there…’ her voice filled with the sound of tears she tried to quell the fear she was feeling.

‘Anything you need…’ Harry said, grabbing his wand and filling the fireplace with green flames and stepping into it. Ron threw his hands in the air, sighing at his husband's eager actions.

‘Now you’ve got him started!’ he complained as he moved towards the flames. ‘I am never going to hear the end of baby talk now!’ and he stepped through too.

She felt Draco’s hand on the nape of her neck, turning she saw his face was split into a huge grin and he leant forward her, kissing her with desperation.

‘I love you,’ he whispered, as he took her hand, pulling her into the green flames.

  
  


* * *

‘You tell him then?’ She asked Harry, as he sat up on the sofa and grinned at her like a child at a circus.

‘She knows?’ Ron asked Harry, in a small and nervous voice.

‘I knew about Harry!’ she sighed at him, trying to take a step forward, but Ron stepped back against the wall.

‘I need something to eat!’ he said, hunching his shoulders and walking out towards the kitchen, pushing past her as he went.

‘Leave him!’ said Harry.

Hermione walked into the room and sat down on the sofa next to Harry, smiling she raised a suggestive eyebrow to him. He threw his head back and laughed, pushing her on the arm causing her fall over.

‘What happened?’ she asked him, she was secretly desperate to know.

‘Two months ago…’

‘Two months?’ she cried at him. She could not believe that he had not told them...they hadn’t told her when they came to Hogsmeade.

‘...yes...I was sort of moping around the house for a week, you know, classic Harry feeling sorry for myself, and he got really annoyed at me. He sort out shouted at me one night, asking me what was wrong and so I just said it.’ Harry let out a sigh.

‘Right?’ she pushed him.

‘And the next thing I know, he had me pushed up against the hallway wall and his tongue was in my mouth.’

Hermione loved what she was hearing. It was not as if she hadn’t seen it coming, seen the looks and the touches and the blushes. Harry was obviously more in tune with himself than Ron, because she still claimed that he had the emotional range of a teaspoon, but clearly it was something Ron had been thinking about before.

‘What happened then?’ she asked, both wanting and not wanting to hear how this first kiss ended knowing what had happened with her and Draco.

‘I ran’ came a voice from the door. She looked up and Ron was hunched there, a pumpkin pasty in his hand.

‘That was mine,’ Harry said to him, but Ron took an extra large bite.

‘I ran and I didn’t come out of my room for two days,’ Ron laughed. ‘I was scared that I had fucked up the one good thing I had going for me.’

Hermione looked at his face and saw the dilemma in his eyes, she felt it in the pit of her stomach. 

‘So then I kissed him…’ Harry smiled, putting his hands behind his head.

‘And now he is extra smug about it…’ Ron rolled his eyes.

‘This is so great!’ Hermione smiled, Ron looked up at her with wide eyes. She got up and ran to him, hugging him hard.

‘I love you!’ she said.

‘Thanks Hermione,’ he smiled.

Stepping into the Headmistresses office the next day she did feel considerably lighter. Knowing that her friends were finally exploring something that would make them happy made her want to forget all about Christmas and focus all her energy into keeping them safe. But upon seeing the Professors face, the memories of Christmas day came back to her. The panicked state that she had been in and the way in which she could not control herself, the Professor had never seen her this way before.

‘Ah Miss Granger!’ came the older woman's voice from the desk. ‘I hope that you had a restful holiday with Mr Potter and Mr Weasley?’ she asked.

‘I did, thank you Professor.’ she smiled. 

‘You seem far more...relaxed than our last encounter.’Hermione stepped up in front of the desk and smiled at her teacher. 

‘Yes, I wanted to apologise for that Professor, I didn't mean to alarm you.’

‘Hermione, I must say I was shocked when I saw you like that, but I did not find it unusual. I am sure that after the year that you have had, there are many things that you would prefer to keep private. I want to let you know that I am respectful of that.’ Hermione felt the shock on her face, she had not expected this welcome.

‘Thank you Professor, I do hope that it won’t be happening again.’ she smiled, and turned to leave the office.

‘To let you know Miss Granger, Mr Malfoy was looking for you. He seemed very...desperate...to speak to you.’ Hermione swallowed and turned to face the headmistress, who seemed to have a twinkling in her eye.

‘Yes...we were meant to have a Prefects meeting the day after Christmas...I did not tell him I was going away.’ she smiled and nodded in thanks, turning back to leave the office. On the other side of the door, she lay her hand upon the stone wall to balance herself. Even hearing his name had set her off, how was she going to see him? Maybe she could put it off for as long as possible.

She made her way up to Gryffindor tower, stepping through the portrait and saw Ginny sitting at one of the tables, writing a letter.

‘Hermione!’ she cried, leaping up, running over and hugging her friend. 

‘Hi Ginny!’ she laughed, as Ginny pulled her over the armchairs.

‘Where have you been? Malfoy cancelled the meeting!’ she asked, looking at Hermione with interest. ‘Did you go to see your parents?’ she asked.

‘No! I...I went to see Harry and Ron!’ 

‘But Mum said they worked over Christmas - some emergency case or something.’

‘I was the emergency case!’ Hermione sighed, letting her face fall.

Ginny’s pressing eyes would have been enough to get her to spill everything, but Hermione had already made the decision to tell her what had happened. She knew that having someone at Hogwarts to talk to would probably make the situation a whole lot easier, even if it was just to talk through everything. So she told her, to give her her due, Ginny was a great audience member. She made the right faces, she made the right noises and she did not stop to ask questions until the end.

‘...and so I floo’d to Grimmauld Place and told Harry and Ron.’

‘Did they go mad?’ she asked, sitting up in her chair excitedly.

‘No!’ Hermione said with a small smile. ‘They just let me cry and let me tell them the story and then just let me wallow with them.’ Ginny looked almost disappointed. ‘Ron did threaten to kill him if that makes you feel better.’

‘It does,’ Ginny smiled. ‘I would kind of want to do the same thing...if I hadn’t seen him over the last week.’

‘Seen him?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know if I should say…’Ginny said. ‘...just that he looked awful.’ She wanted to feel good about that, wanted to be happy that he felt so bad. But all she could do was smile bitterly at her friend and shrug. There was silence before Ginny grinned.

‘I knew you were shagging him!’ she laughed, but stopped immediately when she saw Hermione’s face.

She stood in front of the tapestry, staring at the closed door and blinking rapidly. She had waited in the common room for as long as she could, hoping that by the time she went to her own common room, she would not have to see him. She was calm, her breathing normal; she knew that all she had to do was walk across one room - 20 steps if that. So why couldn’t she step through the tapestry? Because in the bottom of her heart, she knew he was sitting in there. He was not waiting for her, she knew that much, but he would undoubtedly speak to her and she did not know what she would say. Harry and Ron, although surprisingly great listeners were not great sound boards and so could not spell out a conversation with them. She had tried with Ginny, but other people had started to come to the common room at the end of the day and she did not want any rumours getting around.

She pulled aside the tapestry after saying the passwords and, taking a deep breath walked through the room. She wanted to run, wanted to climb up the stairs as fast as she could but she could already see him. 5 more steps and she would be safe, safe from the figure sitting by the fire. 1 more step to the stairs and she heard him.

‘Why did you go?’ he asked her. She turned her head slightly to the side to indicate she had heard him, but did not say anything. He had not got out of his seat, he hadn’t even turned his head to look at her. She sighed, turning to look at him. 

‘I…’

‘Why did you go?’ he stood this time, facing her. 

It was the first time she had seen him since that night and it made her mouth dry. The last memory she had of him was kissing her goodnight and now he was looking at her - she could not even describe his face. 

‘I went to Grimmauld Place,’ she said to him.

‘I know where you went. Professor McGonagall told me. I asked why.’ he snarled at her.

‘I don’t think it’s any of your business,’ she snarled at him. He looked taken aback and moved his head as if looking for the next thing to say to her.

‘Hermione...I….’ he started softly, but did not finish. His face suddenly became very closed. ‘Granger - I don’t know what’s wrong but I don’t think it’s none of my business.’

‘What makes you think that?’ she asked him, bitterly smiling at him.

‘I think you made it my business when you came to my bed!’ he growled, taking a step towards her.

‘And you lost that business when you left me there!’ she growled back.

It had slipped out before she had thought about it, and now that it was out she was glad. She hadn’t wanted to cry or seem weak and now she definitely didn’t. He stepped back away from her, his hand going straight to lay on his stomach. 

‘I’ll see you on patrol!’ She spat the words at him; they were a bad taste in her mouth and then turned, walking up the stairs to her dormitory. She slammed the door behind her, making sure he heard the noise.

At least seeing him had not upset her, it had just made her unbelievably angry. How could he stand there and look hurt? How could he look as if she was the one making it difficult? She stormed around her dormitory, getting ready for bed and thinking about it. The way that he had looked at her made her seethe. 

For the first time that week, she did not have a dream about him. But seeing him across the hall at breakfast made it worse. Seeing him in transfiguration bent over his desk, seeing him casting spells in charms and, worst of all, finding him studying in the library only fueled the fire that she was feeling. To anyone watching her, she must have looked so odd - she knew she was staring at him, even he knew it. She had seen him meet her eyes a few times and sneer at her.

But worst of all, was walking next to him for patrol. She had even tried to switch to walk with Ginny that evening, but she had been busy with homework. No other prefects would - not even Theo - who has smiled apologetically and said something about a date. He stalked next to her, taking smaller strides that usual. He wasn’t even patrolling properly - she always had said that he never took his prefect duty seriously. 

After an hour or so, however, the anger had started to subside and her brain was filled with memories that she would rather not be privy to at this moment in time. He walked next to her and her eyes saw him walking towards her in the bathroom. He raked his hands through his hair and she could feel those fingers buried in her curls, pulling at them as he kissed her. She could feel the burn of his hands on her skin while she lay under him. She stole a glance sideways to look at him, his lips were parted and she imagined those lips on her neck, his breath on her. It was frustrating and overwhelming and stopped for a breather. She took the opportunity to check one of the secret passageways but regretted it; as she recognised the pattern of the wall immediately.

  
  


_ ‘It was meant to be him on patrol tonight!’ she muttered angrily across to Ron, who was walking next to her, the sound of him eating a droobles gum drilling into her brain. _

_ ‘I know he is annoying, but why does it matter?’ he asked her. _

_ ‘Because we have a test in Charms tomorrow and if I get less than 100% I am going to...to…’ _

_ ‘What Hermione, what are you going to do to the Slytherin Prince?’ he laughed at her. _

_ ‘...castrate him!’ she smiled wickedly and she laughed at him. _

_ Draco Malfoy; she couldn’t even believe he had made prefect, she knew he was the worst excuse for a prefect that Hogwarts had ever seen. He hardly ever attended the meetings, he abused his power over the first and second years and now he was skipping out on patrol. She was only happy that she could be trusted to take over on short notice and, of course, she had dragged Ron along out of principle. He hadn’t been too happy about it as he wanted to help Fred and George test their new sweets; but with Harry in detention with Umbridge tonight she knew that Ron could do with some distraction.  _

_ ‘You know, I don’t know why he gets on your nerves so much!’ Ron muttered as he checked a classroom. _

_ ‘What do you mean gets on my nerves? You and Harry are much worse than me usually?’ she said to him, feeling offended by what he had said. _

_ ‘Yeah but..’ he started another piece of gum, blew it up and popped it. ‘When it comes to perfect stuff, why should it matter?’ _

_ ‘Because Ron, it all matters. We have been given a really important responsibility and the students of the school look up to people like us. Why should he get to swan around Hogwarts, do whatever he pleases and yet there be no consequences?’ she asked. _

_ ‘I mean...I am not being funny...but before this year I would have said you were describing Harry!’ Ron laughed, _

_ ‘Ron...that is not funny. You know there is something going on there this year as well!’ she sighed. _

_ They continued on to the next floor, doing their usual round and making sure to check in the secret corridors. If she had to be honest, this was the one aspect of being a prefect she did not like. Patrolling was boring, and they hardly ever found anyone. Even if they did, they would take away points or report them. Her favourite part of this whole job was helping the younger students, and this had nothing to do with that. _

_ They had fallen into a silent step with each other, one that she was completely comfortable with and knew that he would not disturb unless necessary. Just the sound of his bubble blowing permeated the corridors that they walked down. Well, that and an odd bumping sound coming from somewhere ahead. She saw Ron look at her, meeting his eye she knew that he did not particularly want to check it out.  _

_ They stalked forward, walking towards the sound. As they drew closer there were more noises and she rolled her eyes. There were small moans, the sound of shifting clothing and the unmistakable disgusting sound of kissing. As she got to the tapestry, she was furious with whoever was behind it because not only did she now have to fill paperwork, she was going to be embarrassed as well. _

_ ‘Well, go on…’ whispered Ron, poking her in the side. She glared at him, but lifted her hand to pull the tapestry, saying ‘Lumos’ as she did. _

_ There, in front of the two of them, was Malfoy and Parkinson. They were both in a state of dishevelment, Malfoys buttons undone and Parkinson's skirt riding up her legs. At the sound of her voice, they had both stopped their awful ministrations, but did not seem to have the decency to sort their own clothes out. _

_ ‘Oh get a room!’ moaned Ron as she saw who it was. Malfoy took his hand on Pansy’s thigh and pulled his shirt closed, looking at Ron with displeasure. _

_ ‘Funny Weasley...but we already did before you and your little girlfriend decided to break up the party!’ he sneered. _

_ ‘Malfoy - Parkinson - go back to your dormitory! I am going to have to report this!’ _

_ Parkinson huffed at the two of them and pushed them aside, storming off towards the Slytherin dorms. Malfoy did not move. _

_ ‘See something you like Granger?’ he smirked as she stared at him. _

_ ‘Hardly!’ she sneered back. ‘You were meant to patrol tonight Malfoy.’ _

_ ‘Well as you can see, I found something infinitely more interesting to do!’ he laughed, pushing past them. He turned as he walked away, hands open to the side ‘Corridors all free for you and Weasel now!’ _

_ She seethed as she watched him walk away. Draco Malfoy was an arse. _

  
  


‘Do you have a problem Granger?’ he said. She was still standing looking into the empty hidden corridor. She dropped the tapestry and sighed, looking over at him.

‘You...are an arse.’ she almost whispered to herself.

‘Sorry?’ he asked, almost laughing as he looked at her.

‘You…’ she walked over to him and pushed him in his chest. He staggered back against the wall and hissed at the pain. ‘...are an arse!’ she snarled at him.

‘What the fuck!’ he cried, pushing her hand off him. They stood in silence, staring at each other, she was breathing hard. She did not want to fight him, she turned to walk away but he grabbed onto her wrist.

‘Oh not again Granger, you aren’t walking away from me this time!’ he said.

‘Don’t touch me!’ she said, shoving his hand of her and stepping back.

‘You didn’t seem to mind last week,’ he snarled at her. She pushed his hand off.

‘And have regretted it ever since.’ she said as she drew her wand.

‘Gonna fight me Hermione?’ he smiled at her, raising his eyebrow.

‘No, you are not worth it!’ she sighed, turning away from him.

‘I seemed worth it when you screamed my name in my ear!’ he snarled. That did it; she swung around and with everything she had she pulled her wand up and pointed it at him.

  
‘Stupefy!’ she screamed, too quickly for him to block it. She watched him fly through the air at the power of her words, watched him hit the other end of the corridor and lay there motionless. She knew that either he would wake up soon enough or someone would find him. Either way, she was not going to be there when he woke up.  _ Try a taste of your own medicine _ , she thought.

* * *

Notes - Happy Easter everyone. I hope that your day was filled with love and peace. I was going to take a day off and submit tomorrow, but the writing got the better of me. I kind of wished I had because I feel that this is more jumpy than my other chapters - but there were a lot of things I really wanted to get in. Hope you all liked it. Much love to all my commenters and Kudosers :)


	11. Chapter 11

‘I can see that you are irritable Mrs Malfoy, but please, relaxing is the only way that this process is going to go smoothly,’ the woman was telling her, but Hermione was hardly listening to her anymore.

Irritable! Of course she was irritable. It had been 20 hours since she had floo’d from Grimmauld Place, her skin was now the same colour as the inside of a treasure chest, and she could hear the faint noise of the boys downstairs as they occupied their time in her living room. 

‘Love, please just listen to what Healer Murphy has to say,’ Draco said, in what she assumed he thought was a loving tone. She shot him a death glare across the bedroom to where he was sat in an armchair he had summoned. 

The Healer had arrived an hour ago to check on the slow progress of her labour and was clearly insistent on staying until Hermione had calmed herself down - she had resumed her furious pacing, only this time the stops against the wall were used to catch her breath after a particularly bad contraction. She had also bitten her fingernails down to almost nothing on her thumbs and had frayed the edges of the cardigan she was wearing. 

‘Did you floo my mum?’ she suddenly asked Draco.

‘Of course love, they said they were going to send a message as soon as they were able. Harry is then going to arrange a pick up at the International Apparation Spot.’ he said calmly. She breathed again and heard the healer mutter something, shooting her a nasty look. She knew that Healers were important, but right now this one was getting on her nerves.

Not that Hermione was well versed in the ins and out of magical labour; it was probably an area she should have researched more thoroughly, but she knew that a healer was not usually present for much longer than necessary at a birth. Only complicated births were admitted to St Mungo’s, so all magical births took place in the home and it was only the last moment they had to be present for. Harry had summoned Healer Murphy after Draco had gone downstairs at hour 19 and there had been no change. She would have cursed him from here to oblivion if Draco had not promptly taken her wand at hour 10 when she threatened to charm the baby out of her one way or another. 

Hermione gave up and sat on the bed as another particularly nasty surge of pressure waved through her body. Draco leapt up from his chair, crossed to her and took her hands, letting her push down on his as she fought to regain control.

‘Much better, Mrs Malfoy.’ said Healer Murphy as she cast some vital check charms, seeming happy with the results she said ‘I will leave you here and return when called upon. Mr Malfoy, please only call when you are alarmed - Mrs Malfoy appears to have it in hand. Remember, witches magic is bound for this job.’ Hermione heard her walk downstairs, talk to the men gathered there and exit the house. She had wanted to bite back some retort about how witches could do more than carry babies, but her rant about women's rights would have to wait as the pressure continued to battle her body and she heard footsteps on the stairs. Ron’s face around the door looking scared and pale at the sight of her.

‘I have been sent to see if you need anything because Harry said he doesn’t want to get in the way,’ he sighed, he looked exhausted.

‘I did not,’ she heard Harry’s voice yell from downstairs.

‘It’s fine Ron!’ she snapped but then the pressure eased slightly. ‘I’m fine, sorry I didn’t mean to snap at you’ she said in a breathy voice, he smiled and made his way back downstairs.

‘A quick reminder that it was your idea to have them here!’ Draco smirked at her, as he looked down at her, their hands still connected.

‘Don’t try me Malfoy- this is your fault!’ she raised an eyebrow at him.

‘I wondered how long that would take to come up,’ he chuckled, placing a small kiss on the top of her head. She let out a groan as another wave of pressure continued to batter her lower abdomen.

‘Don’t try to be funny with me Malfoy!’ she cried, throwing her forehead into his chest.

* * *

She was filled with regret. The kind that would eat anyone up, but having been around Harry for so long she had developed what she liked to call a side-along hero complex, and the regret was deep down in her soul at this moment. She imagined it feeding away at her goodness and hated herself.

Walking away from him that night, she had felt powerful; like she finally understood why Ron leapt at chances to defend people, why becoming an Auror might just be the most thrilling thing she could do. Throwing curses and hexes in the war had never felt like this, that was all about defense and safety, this had been pure rage. But the more steps she took away from his unconscious body in the corridor, the worse she felt; as if every step was weighing her down. She had only managed to get two corridors away when she sighed and turned back, determined to face him civillay, proving once again why she had not made a convincing Bellatrix Lestrange double. But when she got there, he had gone. There was no trace of him, no scorch marks and thankfully no blood.

He hadn’t been in the common room all weekend; she hadn’t heard him in their bathroom and he was not in the Great Hall for any of his meals. She was expecting to receive a furious shout down from Professor McGonagall everytime she passed her because she had no doubt that Draco had reported her, but she did not say anything. Hermione had started to wonder whether Draco was in the school at all but did not dare ask anyone to raise suspicion. 

Come Monday morning, she was in a state of complete unease walking into the Transfiguration classroom and sitting in her usual seat, looking around at every person who came through the door, hoping beyond hope it was him. Part of her was wishing to see him again, the other half praying that he hadn’t left school because of her as she did not think she would be able to live with herself. But the classroom filled up and Professor McGonagall walked in. Hermione turned to face the front and sat listening to the class. She could see Theo make eye contact with her and raise his eyebrows, but she just turned her head away with a small shrug.

In today's lesson, they were starting their steps towards conjuration; something Hermione had been looking forward to since she had come across the magic in a book while trying to help Harry prepare for the first task in the Triwizard Tournament. It was a branch of magic that drew on the fundamental elements of wizardry and, if used successfully, manipulated them to allow you to create new and existing items. It was deeply woven into studies like Arithmancy and Alchemy and Hermione had always been so intrigued by it. But today was not the day she could celebrate, in fact, knowing that Draco would have loved it made her lament even more.. She cast the enchantments and said the correct words, but she could feel the magic was not with her. Professor McGonagall had come over to check her casting and Hermione knew she was about to make a disappointing comment when the door of the classroom opened. The class turned around to see Draco stalking in. 

‘Mr Malfoy, would you like to explain why you are so late to my class?’ McGonagall asked him.

Draco had not moved further into the classroom and was just standing at the door. His head flickered slightly towards her and she had to hold onto a gasp as she saw he had a black eye.

‘No I would not Professor,’ came his reply. The whole class was silent at his open defiance of their headmistress.

‘Excuse me Mr Malfoy?’ she asked him.

‘I said no Professor. I would like to retain some semblance of my own privacy.’ he sneered.

Hermione could feel Theo’s eyes on her and she knew her face was slowly turning scarlet. What was he thinking? Had he gone mad? It was one thing to be late, but to be rude as well was another and not usually his style towards teachers. If he was mad at Hermione, why not just turn up to class on time and tell her?

‘Mr Malfoy, I don’t know what has gotten into you but this is not what I expect from our Head Boy. You will take yourself to my office and I will speak to you about this after class.’

‘Gladly,’ he turned again and walked out, Hermione noticed he seemed to be carrying himself differently; his weight leaning to one shoulder. Stunning spells only knock you back and she was sure she had seen him fall flat, not against anything. 

As soon as he left, slamming the door as he went, the whole class burst into chatter and she tried not to listen in. She wanted to replay their patrol in her head to see if she could pinpoint where he would have been that badly hurt. Unfortunately, with the likes of Parvati sitting behind her, she was privy to all her thoughts and feelings about how Draco was not a fit Head Boy and that Hermione was crazy to be friends with him. She could almost feel the girls eyes drilling holes in the back of her head like they willed her to turn around and defend him. Lavender then went on a rant about how she knew he was a Death Eater and how she swore she could sometimes see his Dark Mark through his white shirt when the light hit it at lunch.

‘I am sure Hermione must have seen it in their common room. How could she stand the sight of it - I bet her best friends are livid!’ she whispered.

As soon as the bell went for break, she shot out of the classroom and began to walk to the Headmistresses’ Office. She had decided, after listening to the  _ brave _ Gryffindors behind her, that she was going to tell Professor McGonagall what she had done and hope that she spared Draco his rudeness. It was her fault after all - she thought. However, she did not make it very far as she pulled aside into an empty classroom, the door slammed behind her. She knew before she turned that Theo was standing there, glaring at her.

‘What happened?’ he asked her.

‘I don’t know!’ she said to him, but he clearly did not believe her.

‘Try telling me that again but understand that I know the facts.’ he sneered at her.

‘Pray tell,’ said Hermione, trying to sound bored but failing as her heart had jumped into her throat. Had Draco told him?

‘I know that on Christmas Eve you two are all over each other - everyone in the Hall saw that dance and the way he was whispering in your ear.’ he smiled but before she could interrupt, he continued. ‘Then on Christmas Day you were looking all over for him, you seemed out of it and worried sick but then you walked off when I told you he went to his mothers. And then the next week you are gone and he is avoiding everyone and spending the holidays in the library.’

‘I don't know what you think you know but…’

‘Hermione, I have never seen him like that. I have seen that boy face the Dark Lord, he has that man marked on his skin. I have pretty much seen him at the worst moment of his life. But suddenly you go missing for 5 days and it’s like his life is over.’

Hermione did not meet Theo’s eyes, it was like he could read her. She had thought, after getting to know him this year, that he observed people, like Harry. Kept tabs on them and understood who they were, making sure he had as many facts as possible before jumping in. It was both comforting and disconcerting.

‘He’s angry at me, we had a fight.’ she said, looking at his feet.

‘Who gave him the black eye then?’ Theo asked slowly.

‘I did...I think...’ Hermione said.

She watched Theo stare at her like he did not believe her and then pushed past her into the classroom to sit on one of the desks piled there. He gestured to one opposite him. She sighed, dumped her bag on the floor and pulled herself onto the desk.

‘You slept together didn’t you?’ he said to her, she immediately felt uncomfortable. It was one thing to tell people she had known all her life, but she had only known Theo for a few months. She was trying to keep that fact a secret and it seemed to be getting out of hand already. But he was staring at her like he already knew so...

‘Yes.’ she said.

‘Is that why you were looking for him?’ he asked her. She shifted on the table.

‘Yes.’ she repeated.

‘I think you have the wrong end of the stick on something.’ he sighed.

‘You were the one who told me what he said to you. A mistake is what he called me.’ She saw Theo’s eyes blow wise with understanding.

‘Hermione I wasn’t talking about - he wasn’t talking about you.’

‘You don’t know that!’ she growled at him. ‘Look...I am sure that as Draco’s best friend you have his best interests at heart. He can be a nice guy but...I don’t really want to get into this.’ She rose from the table and grabbed her bag from the floor, when her hand was on the door handle he spoke again.

‘I think he loves you!’ Theo said. Hermione swung around to stare at him, wide eyed and shocked.

‘What?’ she almost laughed.

‘Well...he hasn’t said anything but I have never seen him this way before.’ he smiled at her, but she did not want to hear it.

‘I’m sorry Nott but - he is basically an adult - he can tell me himself. He has been brave before, he can do it again if he really wants to.’

_ They were all gathered in Shell Cottage on the outskirts of Tinworth and had been there around two weeks before an order meeting had been called. Hermione had only just been able to walk around without the help of someone and Ron had finally stopped screaming in his sleep. Luna had left the previous week to return back to Hogwarts, despite the fact that they had all begged her not to.  _

_ Seeing the Order Members pop into the house was more overwhelming than she could have imagined. Upon seeing the three of them, Mrs Weasley had burst into tears and pulled them into her arms and Ms Weasley had beamed at them. Fred and George had crowded them trying to ask them questions before being dragged away by Bill. Remus had run in 5 minutes later to tell them the news of Tonks and little baby Teddy. Hermione had seen Harry hug his father’s best friend and look upon him with joy at the news of being made godfather. It was cyclical, she had thought to herself. _

_ They were gathered in the living room, Bill was telling them about the information they had gathered about the use of pureblood galleons to fund the search for Harry.  _

_ ‘Well that search is going well,’ Harry almost smiled, but then looked to Hermione and stopped. _

_ ‘Yeah, about that,’ said George. ‘How did you escape the Manor?’ he asked. _

_ ‘Yes, what information can you tell us about that? Anything you can tell us about the Death Eater Headquarters is going to be a lot of help!’ Remus said to them. _

_ At that moment, the perimeter alarms sounded and they all jumped to their feet, wands in their hands. Ron instinctively stepped in front of Hermione and she placed a palm on his shoulder to make sure he knew she was going to be okay. Remus apparated out to the ward alarm and was back within seconds, this time he had someone on their knees in front of them and his wand at their throat. _

_ ‘Malfoy?’ Hermione asked, pushing Ron out of the way and staring at the blonde boy on the floor. _

_ ‘Please!’ he shouted, as the order raised their wands to him. ‘Listen!’ he cried. _

_ ‘To you?’ Fred asked. ‘Unlikely!’ he said, raising his wand above his head. _

_ ‘No!’ cried Harry, stepping in front of him. ‘Bind him - listen to him!’ _

_ There were surprised faces around the room at Harry’s actions as only him, Ron and Hermione did not seem all that shocked by his arrival. But they heard his instruction, bound Draco to a chair and fed him with a vial of Veritaserum for good measure. They all sat back and waited for the questions. _

_ ‘Why are you here?’ asked Remus. _

_ ‘I have come to pass on information that I know will be useful to you...about You Know Who’s plans.’ Draco answered without hesitation. _

_ Hermione watched him as he spoke. The last time she had seen him, he had been dragging her through his home as she bled everywhere. He had looked collected and angry; now he looked frightened and pale. If it were possible he seemed to have lost weight, his eyes sunken and his face sallow. Each time he answered a question, his eyes flickered to her and then away again. She did not know what it was, but she believed every word that spilled from his mouth. _

_ ‘...and I know that you have no reason to trust me, but if you look in my pocket everything is there. The names, the locations, the charms and plans...my mother is also awaiting my signal to come and give you information.’ _

_ Ron walked forward and rooted around in his pocket, pulling the parchment out that Draco had spoken about. He looked at Harry in silence and then at Hermione, giving a small nod. _

_ ‘How can we trust you Mr Malfoy?’ Remus asked, his face full of concern for the boy in the chair. _

_ ‘I trust him!’ _

_ She heard herself say it before she had even realised it had been said and saw the others turn to look at her in confusion. There was silence as she looked at Draco, his lips almost turning up into a smile at her. As she stared at him it was like there was something she was forgetting about that night that blocked from her reach. _

_ ‘Can you give us a minute?’ Harry asked the room, but did not wait for permission as he walked into the kitchen, followed by Ron and Hermione. Ron shut the door behind them. _

_ ‘You trust him?’ Harry asked. It was not angry or condescending, it was calm and rational. _

_ ‘I do Harry - I know this seems strange but I…’ _

_ ‘No! I agree with you.’ Harry said to her and he gave her a small smile. _

_ ‘Sorry but am I the only sane one here?’ Ron asked and they turned to him, he looked outraged. ‘This is Malfoy we are talking about. You know - arsehole, eat slugs, mudblood, let Death Eaters into Hogwarts Malfoy. Helped kill Dumbledore Malfoy. Are we expected to just believe that he just changes sides and there is nothing in it for him?’ _

_ ‘Ron!’ Harry said ‘He has everything to lose and nothing to gain by coming to us. He didn’t even know where we were!’ _

_ ‘Exactly, which means he had probably led a dozen more of them to us. You heard what he said about his mum. We all have to go and...’ _

_ ‘He saved us!’ Hermione interrupted him. ‘He saved me!’ _

_ The two of them were in silence as she spoke. Over the last two weeks she had watched the boys talk and talk everything over until they were blue in the face. She had sat and watched them plan, smiling and nodding but had not really been in the right frame of mind to join in. She had not talked to them when they helped her change the dressings on her wounds or when they tried to comfort her, but now she stood before them, ready to tell them what was in her mind and she hoped that Ron would be able to see her point of view. _

_ ‘Without his help I know I would be dead right now!’ she said, looking at Ron with earnest. _

_ ‘That’s not true, don’t say that,’ he said, walking towards her, but she held up a hand. _

_ ‘Ron I am telling you right now, if he hadn’t have helped us out of there I would have died there. You might have escaped, but you would have been burying me. You have no idea what it felt like.’ _

_ ‘So...we just let him help us?’ Ron asked weakly. _

_ ‘We need all the help we can get!’ Harry smiled, taking Hermione’s hand. ‘He has been brave enough to come here knowing that we could kill him - he deserves a little bit of trust.’ Ron nodded reluctantly and the three of them made their way back to the living room. _

_ ‘Malfoy - do you swear to help protect this world from You Know Who and protect every order member you can?’ Harry asked striding towards him, the whole order looking at him like he was crazy. _

_ Draco made eye contact with Hermione and she felt her breath catch in her throat. He was openly staring at her, in front of everyone, as if he was telling the whole room her secret, as if he could see her scars through the thick layers of her clothes. _

_ ‘Yes!’ he said defiantly. _

_ ‘Well that's good enough for me!’ Harry smiled and let loose the grips on Malfoy who looked just as shocked as everyone else. _

  
  


Hermione sat in the Head’s Common Room gathering her notes following the Prefects meeting. It had been a particularly long meeting with the change of rota’s, upped protection at Quidditch matches to try and protect falling players following Draco’s accident and notes following the Ball. There hadn’t been many complaints, in fact there hadn’t been much conversation at all, just questions as to why Draco was not there. He had not returned to classes that day following his meeting and she had not seen him again at meals. She had held the meeting to wait for him but he had not shown, for what she had heard Blaise telling Pansy, he was sitting in the Slytherin Common Room all day and not speaking to anyone. When Theo asked Blaise if he knew where he had been all weekend, she heard him mutter that he had been offsite again. As the prefects began to gather their stuff, he strolled in and stopped, looking around. It was clear that he thought the meeting would have already finished.

‘You missed the meeting,’ she said to him as he strode past her. He stopped and turned to look at her, her eyes immediately falling on his black eye. It looked terrible and she wondered why he didn’t have anyone heal it for him.

‘Talking to me now?’ he asked under his breath, looking around to make sure the Prefects passing by them did not overhear them.

‘Listen - I...I really wanted to say…’ 

‘Draco, can I speak to you?’ Pansy Parkinson had come over to stand next to them. Hermione scowled when she saw that she had her big puppy dog eyes on, fawning over Draco and touching his arm.

‘No Pansy - I’m talking to Granger!’ he snarled at her, pushing her hand off making Hermione have to repress a smug grin as she tried to ignore the way he had said her name. 

‘But Draco...it’s really important.’ she whined at him.

‘It’s fine. I guess we’ll...talk later?’ Hermione said not waiting for an answer and picking up her things, making her way up to her room. 

When she reached the top she leaned over the balcony watching the other people in the room leave. When Draco and Pansy were left she watched in horror as Pansy leant up on her toes and moved her face towards him. Not really wanting to see him kiss someone else, she closed her and swallowed hard. Of course he had already moved on.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ she heard Draco say and opened her eyes to see him pushing Pansy away and walking across the room.

‘What do you think silly!’ she laughed at him and moved towards him again, but Draco moved back even further.

‘I think you are making a fool of yourself, Pans. Back off!’ he said in a threatening tone. Pansy’s face dropped and her jaw jutted outwards in anger.

‘What is your problem?’ she asked him, but he threw his hands up and shrugged at her.

‘I don’t have one.’

‘I know you haven’t answered my father's proposal. I know your mother told you about it on Christmas Day. Why are you ignoring it?’ 

She looked hurt, but Hermione thought that it could be a play. She did not know much about Pansy and she knew even less about her and Draco’s relationship other than what she had seen on patrols, but she seemed the manipulative type. She had heard something about Christmas Day and his mother - is this what Theo was talking about earlier on? Did him leaving her in bed have something to do with Pansy? That made her seethe with anger again.

‘Because Pansy - we were over two years ago!’ he stood completely still now, not giving her anything.

‘That’s just a technicality Dray - you know we are meant to be together. Why else would my father say I can marry you.’

‘No Pansy. I have already told my mother my answer - if she hadn’t told your father that then it isn’t my problem.’

‘Draco enough of your games!’ Pansy almost shouted at him, walking towards him and grabbing his wrist. ‘My father has said I am marrying you and that is final!’

Hermione put her hand over her mouth in shock - marriage? Draco was only 18, how could anyone think that children were fit to get married. It did not help that a little jealousy flashed through her mind at the thought of him marrying her.

‘I already told my mother it’s a mistake Pansy. Listen to me carefully...I don’t want you! And you sure as hell don’t want a Death Eater traitor as a husband!’ He spoke slowly and Hermione almost knew it was for her benefit. An arranged marriage was a mistake, was that the mistake he had mentioned? Although she would have loved to celebrate, the knot in her stomach was back and worse than before. Hermione watched Pansy let go of his wrist and step backwards, looking at him in shock.

‘It’s that fucking mudblood isn’t it?’ Pansy asked in a low voice.

‘What?’ Draco asked her, stepping back as well.

‘I fucking knew it! That mudblood bitch has got under your skin!’ she cried. Hermione saw Draco making a fist.

‘Don’t call her that Parkinson!’ Draco growled at her.

‘I knew there was a reason that Blaise and Theo were all over her; that you were hanging around with her. This is rich - the great Draco Malfoy pawning all over a dirty blooded witch.’

‘Pansy I am warning you!’ Hermione saw that his wand was now in his hand and was shaking under the effort to keep it under control.

‘Oh Draco!’ she sauntered towards him, swinging her hips and taunting him. ‘What has she done to you. Do you love her? Does she suck your cock?’ Draco’s eyes were glaring at her as she put her mouth to his ear. ‘Does she give you her filthy mudblood cunt! AHHH!’

Pansy screamed as Draco pushed away and pulled his wand on her, pointing it at her steadily, his chest heaving with anger. Hermione watched, her mind racing - how was she going to speak to him now?

‘Get out!’ Draco said in a surprisingly calm voice.

‘You’ll fucking regret this Malfoy’ and she turned on her heel, storming out of the common room.

Hermione stood there feeling as if she had been petrified. She watched as Draco collapsed against the back of the sofa, breathing heavily and brought a hand to his hair. 

‘You can come down now!’ he said, looking up at her and catching her eyes with his. She felt a blush creep along her cheeks at the thought of being caught eavesdropping but she slowly made her way down the stone steps, stopping at the bottom, watching him precariously.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked quietly, holding her arm in her hand across her body, trying not to look at him. But he did not answer.

‘I can deal with Pansy. She is just a crazy bitch!’ he said, staring at his own feet.

‘I meant...the other night you….’ she couldn’t finish a sentence around him and hated it. She felt like every time she got within 6 feet of him she became a stuttering mess and had no control over her own mind.

‘Was able to recover quickly from your stunning spell Granger?’ he asked, meeting her eye and she saw the fierce look in them. ‘That was a nice bit of dirty play from the Gryffindor Princess.’

‘I didn’t mean - well I did - I…’

‘Can you not finish a fucking sentence?’ he snapped at her

‘I’m sorry I...I just…’ she said, walking towards him.

‘Don’t. Don’t fucking say sorry. Don’t fucking walk towards me and don’t even think about kissing me.’ he sighed, looking at her.

‘I wasn't, I just wanted to apologise. I didn’t realise…’ but again she could not finish. He fell silent and hung his head. At that moment the tapestry opened and Hermione half expected to see Pansy back again to restart the fight. But instead, Professor McGonagall strode in, her cloak billowing behind her.

‘Apologies for the interruption.’ she said. ‘But this is a matter of emergency. I have had contact from the Order that they need both of you immediately. Go and get changed out of your robes and I will floo you from here.’

Draco and Hermione looked at each other and then back at their Headmistress whose lips were drawn into a thin line.

‘But Professor, what about lessons?’ Draco asked.

‘Well Mr Malfoy, it was clear to me earlier than lessons were not your top priority at the moment and that black eye speaks quite loudly for itself’ Draco shifted uncomfortably under her gaze. ‘However, other matters are simply more important. Now please, the two of you are needed and by the sound of it, the briefing is starting soon.’

* * *

Notes: So I hope you love Pansy being a crazy bitch! I envision the next chapter or the one after being a long one. I really want to get some Order action in here but I will be returning to smut soon - I am hoping to have a whole smut chapter coming up. Thanks to all my lovely readers - you inspire me to write every day.


	12. Chapter 12

Hermione was no stranger to pain. She had come to believe that, next to Harry, she may have become a veritable source of information on the subject. Even after years of consistent therapy, she still woke some nights drenched in a cold sweat with the yellow eyes of former villains plastered in front of her. Her scars would still twitch as if they remembered the feeling of claws and cursed silver. Draco was not immune to the memory of pain either; she knew, had witnessed, how he had experienced something very similar - a cursed blade and unbridled screams.

But despite all she knew on the topic, despite her insistence that she had felt worse and that she knew this was something she could easily survive - the pain was unimaginable. It tore through her, almost ripping her in half. Even the reprise she was able to catch in between her fast approaching contractions were extremely uncomfortable, they stung like fire. His hand in hers was the only thing that was grounding her anymore, his hands and his words against the skin on the back of her hand as she screamed at the Healer, who had finally returned to assist her.

Hermione had been worried about not going to a hospital at first, as had her mother and father; in the muggle world home births were rare and often complicated. Draco had made her see the logic of a home birth when he explained the magical nature of what was coming their way; how all their magic was entwined into the little creature. That the home that you are born in creates a powerful magic bond between families. It had made her think of the Burrow and how magical it had always felt - she had never even thought about it that way. But now, close to the end of her own birth, she could feel it. It was like electricity flowing through her - she could feel it in her fingertips and the end of her hair, the glow all over her skin pulsing like a neutron star. She could feel the house, she could feel everyone’s magic, without even thinking she knew that Harry and Ron were downstairs pacing and worrying - if she hadn’t been so busy with her current task, she would have found it overwhelming.

Her breathing heavy and chest heaving with the effort to use her breathing to assist her, she turned her face to look at Draco. He was stressed, she could tell, but he was smiling at her. It was the strangest combination of heaven and hell, of pain and relief, to know that even though it was bad, they were going to come out on the other end more connected than they had ever felt before. He squeezed her hand as another contraction came her way, could he feel them building as well? Could he feel the vibrations of the walls around her as it approached her? 

And then the glow was gone, the buzz of everything had left her. She looked around in panic and saw the Healer talking, but could not hear her words, could see Draco saying something but nothing came from his mouth. But then she heard the only thing she would ever want to hear again...the cry. It was as if the world stopped when she heard it, her stomach pulled towards the noise as if her entire being was intrinsically wound to the noises' wellbeing. And then it was on her, the noise, the feeling, the baby. She cried as the healer placed it on her chest and brought her hands up to cradle the most precious things she had ever held. Closing her eyes, she placed a kiss on the small head, knowing that the feeling traveling through her was what she could only describe as being complete.

And as quickly as all the sound had gone but one, it came flooding back, hitting her like a wave.

‘Congratulation Mr and Mrs Malfoy, you have a beautiful, healthy and seemingly powerful baby boy!’

‘A boy!’ she whispered against his head, a faint smile fighting the sudden surge of exhaustion she had begun to feel. 

She felt Draco kiss her head, and turned to look at him so that he could place his lips against hers. When he pulled back she saw the tears streaking his face and saw his peaceful expression.

‘You are exquisite!’ he whispered to her as he laid his hand softly on the baby and let out a small sob of happiness. ‘This is exquisite.’

* * *

Hermione was waiting in the common room next to Professor McGongall, waiting for Draco to rejoin them. She had run to her room to change into jeans and a t-shirt, packing some extra things in her beaded bag just in case - she was in no mind to go on the run again but the nature to escape was now built into her. He returned less than a minute later, dressed in all black and looking slightly nervous about what was coming up. 

‘I will expect a message from someone in the Order after your meeting so that I am aware of what is happening with my students,’ she said to them curtly as she dropped the floo powder into their fireplace, which sprang to life, the green flames licking at the stone surrounding it. This time, Draco went first stepping through and she followed into the green and came out back at Grimmauld. When she had left not days before, the place had been still and calm but it was now a hive of activity. 

‘What’s going on? She asked, walking towards Harry and Ron.

‘We’ve found him...Greyback!’ Ron said quickly, pulling her in for a quick hug and then walking towards Dawlish to get the meeting started.

‘Does this mean…’

‘Yes,’ Harry interrupted her. ‘Mission is on!’ he tried to smile at her but she could see in his eyes that he was worried for her.

‘Thank you everyone,’ came Dawlish’s voice, silencing everyone.

Hermione looked around the room, even though only the five of them were going on the mission, the whole Order had turned up for the meeting. Mrs Weasley was currently handing out steaming cups of tea, Kinglsey was hovering mysteriously in the doorway and Draco was far away on the other side of the room, leaning in the corner looking sullen. His eyes met hers and she stared at him, but when Harry and Ron flanked her, he looked away again, an uncomfortable expression on his face. She could feel her heart beating hard against her ribs as she looked at him.

‘Fenrir Greyback has been located in Springvale Castle. It's an old DE base on the edge of Stonehaven, used to belong to the notorious DE McNair.’ he looked around the faces in the room. ‘It is vital that we stick to the original plan to sneak in undetected, the only way we are going to get the jump on this one is if we do that. That is the reason I have waited until the last possible moment to contact you, we go for it come dusk tomorrow.’

‘Full moon is tonight,’ Harry continued, picking up where Dawlish had finished. ‘He is going to be far too strong to challenge in Werewolf form and he won’t get his strength back until two nights after.’

‘From what we know of Greyback he is still going to put up a fight and who knows who else is going to be there’ added Ron as he pointed at a map lying on the table.

‘Molly and Arthur, your house is going to play host to the backup throughout the mission - everyone not involved in the initial wave, please go and prepare yourself and be at The Burrow before midnight tonight.’ Dawlish said.

There were nods of assent as people made their way back to the fireplace, saying their goodbyes and leaving. The Minister also nodded, not wanting to spark any ministry approval, and also stepped into the flames leaving the five of them alone. Hermione could feel the tension in the room take a step up, Draco was looking at his feet.

‘Okay, usually I would say it was vital to stick together, but I know this one is slippery. Ron, Harry and Hermione, you are going to enter via the west entrance and sweep right. Malfoy and I are going to sweep from the east.’

‘And what is the plan if we come across him in these smaller groups, you may think it’s enough but it would need all five of us to detain him,’ drawled Draco from the corner, looking up at Dawlish with stern eyes.

‘If you have a better idea Malfoy then please, I am all ears!’ Dawlish said. Draco stepped away from the wall and towards the table, peering over the maps with intent.

‘I think our best bet will be two from the top and three from the bottom, it leaves more doors and exits shut. More importantly, as soon as we get in there someone is going to have to cast protective shields around the castle so Greyback cannot apparate away.’

Hermione could feel Ron tense next to her as he spoke, but knew he wouldn’t say anything because the plan was a good one. He had many faults, but his overthinking nature made Draco a very good mission planner.

‘As I have mentioned several times before, this man cannot be messed with. Even on his weakest day he is going to be more than a match for two of us. I say that if we locate him, we do not engage until all of us are together - use some sort of charm to signal our location. The only spell I have ever seen work on him is a binding enchantment but as you will know, it means that someone will be without a wand restraining him and in danger if there are other DE’s about.’

‘Okay…’ said Harry slowly. ‘Personally I think the best course of action is for Ron and I to go from bottom and Dawlish, Hermione and Malfoy come from top. Hermione is best known for protectie enchantments, so she will need to do those. Use our Patronus’ as a signal.’

Hermione wanted to strangle her best friends, she looked at him with wide eyes but he seemed to be ignoring her.

‘Great work. I will be here tomorrow around 3pm to prepare.’ he walked toward the fire and then turned to the four of them. ‘Get some sleep!’ he said and left.

With just the four of them in the room, Hermione could tell that the tension could be cut with a knife. To anyone walking in, it looked like a confrontation was ready to happen and she was worried because although she knew that Harry and Ron were more than capable of taking Malfoy alone, Draco would put up a fight defending himself. This was why she was thankful when Harry spoke.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ and Hermione visibly relaxed, breathing out breaking eye contact with Draco as Harry walked away. It was Ron who broke the silence next.

‘Do you have something to sleep in Hermione?’ he asked and she turned to him, but he was still staring at Draco, who met his eyes with contempt upon his face.

‘Yeah..’ she muttered. ‘Erm - always try and come prepared.’ she tried to chuckle, but it died in her throat into a cough. She had never known a conversation to be so awkward. The death glare between Ron and Draco was getting a little too much so she tried to change the conversation.

‘Do you think we are going to be able to detain him?’ she asked Ron, and he finally broke eye contact to talk to her.

‘We will try our best. Hopefully this...plan…’ he looked at Draco with a smirk ‘...is actually going to work.’

‘Have a problem with it Weasley?’ asked Draco, his voice slow and monotone. Hermione saw Harry turn around slowly at the stove to watch the two boys talking, a mug in his hand. He looked at Hermione and she saw his jaw lock.

‘Sounds like a great plan coming from a Death Eater,’ Ron snarked.

‘Ron...please…’ Hermione muttered, laying a hand on his arm.

‘And here we see a display of Weasleys’ famous grudge. Can’t stand the fact that my plan is better than anything that you can come up with!’ Draco bit back at Ron, his eyes narrow and fierce, but Hermione could see the faint blush creeping up his neck as he spoke.

‘Ron - Malfoy - back down...;’ Harry said in a strangely authoritative voice, but he was ignored.

‘’I just can’t believe that after all these years, you are still threatened by me Weasel!’ Draco smiled at him.

‘Enough of this pissing contest,’ Hermione shouted over them and she saw Draco roll his eyes. ‘Ron, we already spoke about this…’

‘That’s right Ron! Listen to your little girlfriend!’ muttered Draco just loud enough for them to hear. Ron went for him as Hermione swung around to glare at Draco, luckily Harry had already grabbed Ron’s shoulder to still him.

‘What is wrong with you?’ she cried at him. ‘Why would you possibly think that was okay to say?’ she screamed. He turned his head away, tapping his fingers on his thigh.

‘I am going to…’ Ron growled but Draco snapped at him before he could finish.

‘What? What are you going to do Weasley - give me another black eye?’ 

Hermione’s head snapped to look at Ron with such force that she was sure she had given herself whiplash. His face was a picture - clearly he had had no intention of telling her this news. 

‘What?’ she asked him, venom in her voice. ‘What is he talking about?’ she repeated but he didn’t answer, just turned his face away, not making eye contact. She scoffed at him and then turned to look at Draco who now looked as though he regretted saying it. She turned away from them both, staring at the wall and letting the silence envelop them. At this moment, it was all too much to handle. With Draco and Pansy and Greyback - she could not really deal with a layer of Ron plastered on top.

‘Hermione, would you like some tea?’ Harry asked in a small voice and she slowly turned to face him, sighing as she did so.

‘No Harry - I do not want any tea.’ she said weakly. ‘I am going to bed!’

  
  


Not that going to bed did much, as she lay awake in the sheets, staring at the overly ornate ceiling and contemplating the problem she now faced. She had told Harry in this very room that she still would have slept with Draco despite everything but knowing what she knew now, and the issues that it had caused, rippling through her group of friends - she started to question if it had been worth it at all? Of course, the answer was yes, she could feel it in her heart as her brain asked it. He was complicated, the situation was complicated, her friends were complicated - but to feel that way in his arms for one night, she would exchange a million awkward conversations like the one from earlier. Draco Malfoy was an arsehole; she had said it to others and had said it to his face. But no matter how angry she got at him, how hopeless she thought them being together in any sense of the word was, she still wanted him. 

Laying there, she imagined his fingers on her, the way in which his fingertips brushed her skin, the way they padded at her hips, burying themselves in. She wanted him to touch her like that again, wanted him to make bruises on her hips as he grabbed her - as he sank himself in her. She could feel herself getting hot and she tried to bury her face in the pillow, but it was no use - her memory was being cruel. His lips against her, his lips against her throat and the way he dragged his teeth over her earlobe, her eyes fluttered closed and she pulled her lip into her teeth. Her stomach was warm and she wanted to touch herself, her fingers twitching to bury themselves in between her legs. Her ears hoping that she would get to hear his breath over her again and get to hear his moan in her ears - the low rumbling washing over like honey. She almost heard it as her fingers trailed her lower abdomen. They stopped just at her waistband and she could feel the increase of pressure in her groin, she curled her fingers hearing him again, biting back her own groan.

Then she heard it again - his moan. She sat up quickly and tried to steady herself, pressing her thighs together to quell the pumping of blood around her ears. A thump and a moan again, followed by a strangled sound. She jumped out of bed and opened her own door - she worried if she had heard it wrong, worried that her brain was playing tricks on her as her arousal trickled away. The door opposite her was closed and the corridor was silent when she heard it clear as day - a small shout and sheets rustling - she knew it was him behind that door. He was having a nightmare.

She took a deep breath and swallowed, gathering herself to see him like that again, hoping he would not curse her. She laid her hand on the handle and turned - it was locked.

‘Fuck!’ she sighed, laying her forehead against the door and closed her eyes. She moved her hand from the handle to lay flat against the door when she heard him cry again, a small sob and she whispered as many unlocking charms as she could remember. Nothing budged, the wood against her hand standing fast.

She turned around, eyes still closed and head laying back on the wood, listening to the sound of him moving, sobbing, crying. She may not like him very much right now - but there was no way that she could handle Draco feeling like this. She just wanted to wake him up, wanted to lay next to him...wanted to hold him. She had heard those sobs coming from her own mouth before, the cry of loss and despair.

  
  


_ When they walked into the Great Hall, they were greeted by the most awful sight she had ever seen. Rows and rows of bodies lined the area where the tables had once been. A room that was once so full of joy, now lined with death. Ahead of her, she saw the Weasleys gathered around Fred - she felt hot tears spring to her eyes. He was laid out, his torn clothes still and bloodied, his face looked like he could be dreaming. She knew her mother would have said that he looked almost angelic. George was kneeling at his twin's head, his face bent over him, their foreheads touching. He was not crying, but gently rocking over him. Mrs Weasley had thrown herself over her son and Hermione could see her shoulders shaking while she was comforted by Mr Weasley, his own tears streaming silently down his face. The boys stood behind them just staring, unsure of what to do or say. _

_ She felt Ron start to move towards his family and she followed him, distantantly her mind registered that Harry had not followed. As she walked towards them, Ginny came forward and hugged her, sobbing into her shoulder. The sound broke her heart, the sight before her broke her heart. Ginny grabbed her hand and pulled her over to the family, Hermione turned to see Harry disappear around the corner and into the entrance hall. Part of her was desperate to follow him, but some of her knew he would need some alone time. _

_ Ron came and sat next to her on the floor around half an hour later, taking his hand in hers they both sat, staring at the hall looking at their friends and family grieve. He occasionally sniffled, but other than that, there was silence. With him it was strange - she could see who he loved, he had kissed her not two hours before and now they were sat while there was death all around. She had enjoyed the kiss; it had been nice and exciting but when she had turned and saw the look on Harry’s face - everything had been so clear to her - now it was like she was holding the hand of a brother. _

_ She looked over to the door of the hall and saw Seamus enter, carrying a lifeless Colin Creevey over his shoulder and further still, she saw Neville. She watched him jump slightly, her hand hovered over her wand, but then Harry became clear. He must have been under the cloak. She narrowed her eyes as she watched them talk - Harry seemed nervous, jumpy. A terrible lump started to form as she watched them. It was obvious that Harry kept interrupting Neville, trying to get something across and he definitely said the word snake at least three times. Before she had meant it, a small sob escaped her throat. _

_ The sob caught Ron’s attention, who looked to her and then followed her eyes to the door, a small smile graced his features as he saw Harry standing there. They both watched as Harry slowly turned and walked away, Hermione saw him slip back under his cloak. _

_ ‘Harry…’ Ron started but looked to Hermione who knew her expression was closed.  _

_ ‘No...Harry…’ He rose and started to walk towards the door, following him. Hermione went after him and grabbed his arm. _

_ ‘Hermione what are doing? We need to…’ _

_ ‘No Ron!’ she said, her throat tight even as she tried to explain it to him. He pulled his arm free and went after him again. This time he walked fast and Hermione had to run to catch up, standing in front of him. _

_ ‘Harry!’ he shouted, looking around and trying to get past her. She stood her ground and put a hand on his chest. _

_ ‘Ron...I’m sorry…’her voice caught again, she cleared her throat and stared at him.  _

_ ‘I can’t Hermione, I can’t!’ he was shaking his head furiously at her, tears in his eyes. _

_ ‘I’m sorry - you have to. If he wanted us he would have said,’ she said in a small voice, lifting her palm to his face. _

_ ‘But I...I...I never told him...I never said…’ the tears in his eyes spilled over and ran over her fingertips. The sight of it devastated her, his sobs grieved her - the tears streamed down her face as she tried to calm him down. _

_ ‘Whatever it was, I am sure he knew. We need to support him in this!’ _

_ ‘He didn’t even say goodbye!’ he cried, the sobs overcoming him as he fell to his knees, his hands on his face ‘Harry…’ he sobbed again. _

_ Hermione dropped to the floor with him and dragged him into her arms, her own tears falling silently. She wanted to run after him, wanted to grab him and keep him with her and Ron, never let him go. But she knew, had known for what feels like a lifetime. She had seen him over the past few months, seen him as he destroyed the Horcruxes, the way he changed when they were gone. Initially she had thought that the dreams were taking their toll, but then she saw the change in his skin colour, the way his eyes would darken when he was staring at something for too long, the way he looked when he woke up. She could feel the darkness in him; sense that they were losing him.  _

_ Ron’s heart-wracking sobs continued into her chest as she held him and she let hers free to join. They had to let him go - Harry wasn’t theirs anymore. _

  
  


She opened her eyes, the sound and movements in the door behind her continued. She slid down the door, letting herself hit the floor and just listened to the sound of him and her own breathing. She knew what grieving really felt like and so it was almost impossible to walk away.

‘Is he okay?’ her head moved to see Harry standing by her doorway, watching her. She folded her legs under her and shook her head.

‘Have you tried…’

‘Locked!’ she confirmed. He sighed, his shoulders sagging and he slipped down to cross his legs on the floor opposite her. He looked like he had dragged himself out of bed - his hair was at more odd angles than usual and his eyes a little droopy.

‘Sorry he woke you,’ she said. ‘Did you think it was Ron?’ she asked.

‘No...I knew who it was,’ she knit her eyebrows together until he said. ‘Hermione...Ron’s in my room.’ he chuckled lightly.

‘Oh…’ she chuckled back and he nodded, rolling his lips together. They fell into silence again until another particularly loud groan came from behind the door and Hermione flinched at the sound.

‘Does this happen a lot?’ Harry asked her and again, she shook her head. 

‘What happened Harry?’ she asked abruptly. He did not answer. ‘How did Draco get a black eye?’ Harry sighed but again did not answer. ‘Did Ron come to Hogwarts?’ she asked, confused.

‘No!’ Harry said quickly.

‘What then? Please tell me?’ she begged him.

‘Malfoy came here Hermione!’ he said. She stared at him, her eyes searching his for the truth.

‘Why...when?’ Harry looked resigned and started to talk.

‘The day after you left, we sat down to dinner and...he was there - all of a sudden. The fire turned green and out he stepped. Initially we were shocked and then he said’ Harry looked at her, bringing one knee up and resting an elbow on it. ‘He said; what do I do?’

Hermione didn’t say anything, just watched as Harry tried to gather the right words to tell the story.

‘Before I could stop him, Ron had jumped up and grabbed Malfoy and slammed him into the wall. The noise his arm made was horrific and I tried to pull him off. Hermione I tried - but Ron was just screaming at him and….Malfoy wasn’t even fighting.’ He looked again, waiting to see if she would talk but at that moment she couldn’t really find the words.

‘Eventually, Ron backed down and we all just stood there. Then Malfoy just said...he said…’ He reached out a hand towards her ‘Hermione I don’t think I should be the one to tell you this.’ She grabbed his hand before he pulled it away.

‘Please Harry - please tell me what he said.’ Her voice sounded desperate.

‘He said: I think I’m in love with her. To be honest, I was in shock and it looked like he was as well. Unfortunately, Ron took this moment of shock and used it to his advantage.’

‘He punched him!’ Hermione said, looking up for the floor to meet Harry’s eyes. ‘Then….’

‘He did what Ron does best and ran away. I tried to heal Malfoy - but he wouldn’t stay. I couldn’t even give him any advice.’ he smiled sadly at her.

‘What would you have said?’ she asked him quietly.

‘I think I would have told him to be patient with you and wait for the right time to tell you what happened that morning. I would have said that you trusted him once, so you would listen to him. Just to be honest with you and not to play games!’

‘That’s good advice.’ she smiled.

‘Hermione, you have to get some sleep!’ he said as he pulled himself from the floor, holding out a hand to help her up. She took it and then turned back to the door, hearing nothing but silence on the other side, she laid her palm against it again. She felt a surge of magic and looked to see Harry casting a muffling spell.

‘Just tell him how you feel, Hermione. What do you have to lose at this point?’

‘When did you gain so much perspective? She asked, smiling at him.

‘I think it might be death you know - really puts you in your place!’ he chuckled.

‘I think it might be getting shagged,’ she commented and laughed at the face he pulled.

‘Well Miss Granger...you would know all about that wouldn’t you,’ and laughed along with her as she pushed him back to his room.

* * *

Notes: Now that some of the misunderstandings are cleared up, I can get into Order business before I make sure that these two can actually make it to their future selves! Thanks to all my new readers and comments, of course I still love all my OG readers too. I am going to try and keep this punishing one chapter a day pace up - but I am an essential worker scheduled to go in tomorrow so lets see how it goes. Stay safe everyone!


	13. Chapter 13

Elation. That was the word that flashed around her mind again and again as she looked down at the bundle in her arms. She was starting to be afraid that if she looked away, the gorgeous thing would disappear and she would be lost. It had only been one hour but she felt love for him, more love than she had felt before; it was completely and bone-chillingly terrifying. He was the image of his father, fine blonde hair and steely grey blue eyes that made her heart melt, but he could tell he had her determination as he tried to fight sleep over and over as he lay in her arms. His eyelids drooping and opening as if he too, was frightful she would not be there when he woke up. She could not stop looking, or touching or speaking to him - it was her new life's mission to make everything good.

After an hour or so rest, she had woken up to see Draco sitting in the armchair, holding their baby, and the sight stopped her breath. He had wrapped the baby in a silver blanket and was staring at him as he slept. Draco’s face was - tranquil - the lines all melted and the corners of his mouth slightly peaked as if he wanted to smile but could not fathom doing anything other than staring. As she watched, he raised from the chair and walked over to the window, the afternoon sun was beaming through, and he lifted the baby until they were face to face. She was confused at first, but then he just held him there, looking as if he could not believe what he had helped to create. He brought his forehead down until it was touching his sons and Hermione nearly cried when she heard him speak.

‘I love you,’ he whispered.

She noticed that his sleeves were rolled up, the angle of his arm causing them to fall and she saw it again; his mark cut in half and faded. Next to something so pure, it looked irrelevant. 

She pulled herself up onto her elbow, and the noise distrubed him; his eyes found hers and his face flooded with concern.

‘I thought you were sleeping,’ he said in a low tone.

‘Clearly my brain had other concerns - can I have him please?’ she asked, she felt the tug in her stomach, drawing her to the baby, needing to feel him in her arms.

‘You don’t need to ask,’ he smiled, walking over and placing him in her arms, the weight of him was comforting. Tearing her eyes from his little face, she smiled at Draco who still stood next to her.

‘He is the most perfect thing I have ever done!’ she whispered, her cheeks were aching from the smile that she wore. ‘How are the boys?’ she asked him and he smiled again.

‘They are asleep - cuddled up on our sofa!’ he laughed. 

‘They know we have a guest room,’ she muttered, feeling guilty that they had been here over 24 hours and she had not seen them. Draco seemed to see the thought cross her mind.

‘Would you like me to get them?’ he asked her. ‘Want them to meet our little man?’

‘I am surprised they have not beat the door down to get in here!’ she laughed, as he kissed her on the forehead and walked out of the door.

She looked back down to her son - son - it seemed so strange a word to think. This incredibly perfect little thing had not been in their life 2 hours ago and now it seemed like he had been there forever, always waiting to see her. It was surreal, almost like losing control and that would usually make her want to run for the hills, but this yearning that she felt for him was unlike anything else.

There was a noise from the door and she looked up to see Harry’s face looking nervously at her, with Ron behind him looking over his shoulder.

‘Can we come in?’ Harry asked quietly, shuffling in the doorway. She smiled and nodded, so he pushed the door open slowly and they both shuffled in. She watched their faces melt from nervous to awe as they walked closer to her. 

‘Do both of you want to meet your godson?’ she asked, raising her eyebrow as they moved slowly towards her. Ron and Harry exchanged a look of joy.

‘Our Godson?’ Harry asked, she could hear the tears in his throat.

‘Well who else would we have picked?’ Draco said, leaning against the wall and watching the three of them. ‘I don’t have any friends!’ he laughed.

She always noticed that when the three of them were close like this, he would step away. One time she had asked him about this and he said something about not disturbing the ‘golden trio’ which had gained him a slap on the arm.

‘Hermione, he is beautiful...just beautiful,’ said Harry as he climbed carefully onto the bed next to her and looked over at the baby in her arms. She looked at Harry and knew she was pulling a smug face, but she just couldn’t help herself. The look in the eyes of her best friend was like nothing she had ever seen before.

‘Isn’t she amazing?’ Draco asked Harry, to which he looked at Hermione and rolled his eyes.

‘Can I hold him?’ Ron said and they all looked at him in surprise, if it was one thing that Ron hated more than anything, it was babied. Being an Uncle five times already seemed to have made that clear. But as they turned to him, Hermione was shocked to see that he was crying.

‘Of course you can,’ she said quickly, gently passing the bundle over to him. 

Hermione sat back, leaning against Harry as they watched him, she noticed Draco edge closer to get a look at what would be a historic moment for the three friends. Ron’s face was blank, his eyes wide with fear and his hands shaking slightly as he held the little boy. 

‘Harry,’ he said breathlessly as his eyes met his husbands. ‘Can we have one please?’ he asked, the tears on his face glowing in the sunlight.

Hermione turned quickly to see Harry's face light up and he carefully got up and went around to stand in front of his husband, putting a hand under the baby's head and kissing Ron on the forehead. 

Looking into his eyes he said ‘Yes.’ and even he couldn’t hold back the tears as he too started to cry.

  
  


* * *

It was dark when they apparated to the village of Stonehaven once dark had fallen. The village was situated high, close to a mountain range and the air was icy. Hermione was thankful that she had worn two layers of clothing, but even that did not stop the goosebumps from breaking out across her skin. The village was almost in darkness and as the small group walked through the streets, it was obvious that it was near abandoned. Shop signs that hung were faded and broken, windows dusty and covered in mildew and the cobbled street was broken and raised. 

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron as they walked, the look on his face showed her his unease. It was clear that his Auror training had done him well though, as she knew he would usually use this time to go over the plan. She could hear Draco’s footfalls behind her, they were lighter than the rest of the men. She turned to look over her shoulder at him; he was walking with his hands in his pocket, a particularly un-Draco thing to do. His head was low as he trudged along, his jacket collar turned up against the wind.

‘Okay, I am going to scout up ahead. Malfoy, Potter can you walk east and scout. Granger and Weasley, stand ground here.’ Dawlish whispered when they came across an ancient milestone with the word ‘Springvale’ etched into it.

Hermione watched as Harry and Draco walked off to the east, she wanted to be concerned about what they might find, but her mind was too focussed on the conversation with Harry from the previous night. She saw Harry look over his shoulder at her, say something to Draco and turn back. She shook herself, half to warm up the other half to get her to concentrate. When she turned, Ron had sat down on the kerb and was adjusting his boot lace. 

‘I’m sorry Hermione.’ he said, hands still fiddling with his shoe.

‘Ron, I am trying to focus. You can apologise later.’ she said shortly.

He sighed and stood up. ‘No - I can’t. Harry has made it pretty clear that I apologise or…’ he looked away as a blush rose on his cheeks. ‘...or I have to go back to my own room.’

Hermione could not help but snort a laugh as he said it. Although he was this huge presence before him, towering above her at 6’ 2”, she had always been able to see his vulnerability. His broad shoulders and heavy build could not hide the insecurities he had always battled and she knew that talking to her like this must have been very difficult for him. Yes, they still joked about his emotional range of a teaspoon - Harry had once said that it was strange for him to be so emotionally closed when his family were always so open. But now he looked at her, face turned away to avoid eye contact, shoulder hunched and openly admitting that he had been told off by his new boyfriend.

‘Don’t laugh at me,’ he muttered. Her face dropped and she walked towards him, grabbing one of his hands.

‘I’m sorry - I didn’t mean to laugh. It’s just...strange to hear you talking like this.’

‘Yeah - I know.’ he said, lifting a hand to rub the back of his neck but then looked at her with a goofy smile. ‘I’m sorry I punched him. I’m sorry I shoved him against a wall and screamed at him. I know you told us not to do anything but - his face - he’s such a prick!’

‘I know,’ she chuckled and squeezed his hand. ‘But it’s for me to navigate my love life.’ Ron grimaced at her comment, sticking out his tongue in disgust.’

‘Why are you holding hands?’ Harry said as he approached them, Draco in tow.

‘For warmth?’ Hermione suggested. ‘Anything up that way?’

‘Nothing,’ Draco said. ‘There appears to be an old cottage - but it's all condemned.’

At that moment, a silver jaguar surged towards them and the four of them bared their wands towards it until it spoke in Dawlish’s voice.

‘I am around 100 yards up the road at the gate, meet me there.’

They started to make their way up the path and had to gather in as the edge of the road got narrower. It was fairly overgrown with hanging trees and nettles and once or twice Ron nearly flung an extended rose thrown branch into her. They did not light their wands, not wanting to be spotted as they trenched the undergrowth, the smell of dirt pungent. When they spotted Dawlish he was crouched next to an old iron gate, at least 9 foot tall, bent and manipulated, bearing what Hermione assumed was the McNair coat of arms. A lion, wearing the head of an eagle. Dawlish stood as they approached and spoke in a small voice.

‘Granger, Malfoy - get a good look at the top of this castle while I talk to you as that westmost tower is where we will be going in.’ 

Hermione looked up to the looming dark vision before her. She had always been entranced with castles as a young girl, not for the fantasy of Princesses and Kings, but the history that lived in them. For this reason, moving to Hogwarts had been a dream to her, filled with the hidden messages and history that she so craved. But looking up at this castle, her lungs were filled with frigid dread. It was made of a dark grey stone, bordering on black, with high gothic windows edged with black metal. She knew that nothing good was going to come on this in that instant.

‘Once we are in position,my patronus will alert you and we will enter the castle. Remember, it is very important that we complete this covertly. If we find Greyback, do not engage, call for the other group as fast as you can, then we might have a chance to do this.’

‘And if we are engaged by others?’ Harry asked Dawlish.

‘Same protocol.’ he confirmed.

‘What is the contingency for backup? What about injury?’ Ron asked.

‘I do not want to call for backup unless completely necessary - the Order does not really have enough people to spare. As for injury, if everything goes well then any injury can be dealt with at St Mungos.’

‘And if it doesn't go well?’ Draco asked. There was silence as if no one wanted to answer.

‘We can’t go to St Mungos?’ Hermione asked Dawlish, trying to suppress the shake in her voice.

‘We are on a mission not sanctioned by the ministry. If the mission goes South - Grimmauld will be the first port of call for injuries. Miss Granger I know that you are the best at healing amongst us. As well as that, you will be the only one who will be able to apparate in and out of the wards as they will be yours. Worst comes to worst - you get the injured out.’

She swallowed hard as she looked around the group. As usual, Draco was staring at her with darkened eyes. She looked away and nodded.

‘See you on the other side!’ Harry smiled at them as they looked to the top of the tower, and turned.

The top of the tower was even more icy than the bottom, the wind whipping around them, pulling her hair back. She watched Draco and Dawlish head towards the door, working on unlocking it while she turned to look over the landscape. She waved her wand in front of her, feeling the magic coursing through her veins as she prepared the wards around the castle. She watched the ethereal bubble drop low over the darkened mountains, the rustle of the pines growing quiet as the protection deceneded. 

She turned to see Dawlish’s wand in the keyhole of the door and Draco standing in front of her.

‘Are you going to be okay Granger?’ he asked her, his eyebrow raised slightly.

‘I’ll be fine!’ she said in a low voice. He took a deep breath and he rolled his lips.

‘’We’re ready,’ Dawlish said from behind them and they turned, wands at the ready, as they entered the castle, the jaguar leaping off towards the others.

The castle was as dark on the inside as the bricks it was made up on. The walls, cold and damp as they moved slowly room to room, from corridor to corridor, sweeping as they went. There were no portraits, no relics or talismans around, just wind and silence. The tension filled her throat, like a vice, she could feel that he was here somewhere and hoped that they were all together when they did. She thought of Harry and Ron and what rooms they were searching, what were they finding, were they as scared as she felt.

  
  


_ ‘Accio diadem,’ she cried into the room, desperately hoping that it would fly towards them. But it did not. They were, all three of them, stood looking out onto the room of lost things with nothing but their wands and Harry’s knowledge of what the diadem looked like. Everything that had ever gone missing was piled high around them, towering towards the ceiling that was so far away, she could hardly see it. They couldn’t hear the battle raging outside of the door behind then, just the slow creaking of objects. _

_ ‘Let’s split up,’ she heard Harry say, and the three of them went down separate corridors of useless items. She was surrounded by wooden chairs - stacked and thrown together. She ran, hearing their footsteps move further away from her as she did. Looking around frantically, she saw nothing that she could think would hold this crown, no wardrobe, no boxes. _

_ She placed a hand on her chest, trying to calm herself down. All year had been leading to this night, leading to this battle. They had prepared for it as well they could, this was all part of the final leap to defeat him - but now she was here - she was terrified. She had told Harry in first year that books and cleverness did not make you a great wizard, and even now she believed those words were true. Harry had always been brave, running headfirst into danger without a second thought for himself. Ron had always been brave, protected them to the hilt. She sometimes liked to think she was brave; she drank potions she did not know, held mirrors to giant snakes, looked a werewolf in the eye, willingly stood at the bottom of a lake, fought Death Eaters and ministry workers without a second question. But right now, as she stood and looked at the task before her she felt her bravery start to seep away. _

_ ‘RON’ she heard Harry yell, it sounded very far away. She broke into a run, desperate to get to them - thoughts of bravery pushed from her mind. She could hear talking, so she pushed herself to run even faster. Her thighs were aching, her lungs on fire, but she kept going. Pulling her wand, she heard someone say ‘Crucio’ and turned the corner to see a red jet of light miss Harry by inches. _

_ ‘Stupefy,’ she had muttered, and watched the jet miss Crabbe’s head by inches as he was pulled out of the way by Malfoy. _

_ She knew she would see him today, knew that they would all come face to face at some point. It had been discussed at the last meeting, what would happen if they did. They had made it clear to Draco - play your part. His mother was the same, she must currently be standing with the hundred of other Death Eaters outside the protection enchantments. She couldn’t imagine what was running through his mind but she saw him mutter the word mudblood at her, but his eyes lit up and were wide.  _

_ ‘Avada Kedavra,’ Crabbe yelled at her, the green jet streaming past her as she jumped out of the way. She grabbed the table that she fell against, her heart thumping. She tried to catch her breath, tried to force the fear out of her fingers as they shook. _

_ She rounded the corner again, trying to aim a stunning charm at Malfoy - trying to get him out of play so that he wouldn’t get hurt, but Crabbe fell into him and the hex bounced off a mirror that smashed into pieces. Draco was screaming about not killing Harry - trying to reason with Crabbe about You-Know-Who; out of all of this she could see the acting skills he possessed. She could see he had crawled underneath a table, his wand nowhere to be seen. She charged towards him and Crabbe, stunning as she went and got to Harry. _

_ ‘It’s somewhere here,’ he was shouting at her, so she dove in and began to pull apart at the wreckage. She could see out of the corner of her eye that Draco was looking at her, begging her to find it so that they could get out of this room. Then she heard it. Ron’s scream.  _

_ He rounded the corner, running at them, Goyle overtaking them and passing them at speed. Draco scrambled out from under the table, gave them one final look and, grabbing Crabbe, ran. Rising above them were flames, and almost instantly Hermione knew what Crabbe had done, and sighed a small sob escaping her lips. He had used Fiendfyre and she knew that they had to leave, but they were surrounded on all sides. _

_ ‘What can we do?’ she screamed over the roar of the flames. The boys looked back at her with fear flickering across their faces - if she didn’t know then who did. She knew she could be brave, she had to be brave for them, she would show them she could do this. _

  
  


‘Granger,’ Malfoy whispered at her as they were slowly descending a staircase, she met his eyes and he looked over to Dawlish, following him she could see Dawlish entering a room at the bottom.

They both waited for him to open the door, the silence hanging in the air was almost musty with the effort of listening. He approached the door, wand out, slowly turning the heavy brass handle. He opened it a fraction and peered through, seeming to accept what was behind it, he opened it further and turned to them as a signal to continue. 

Suddenly, a purple jet of light hit Dawlish and he was flung against the staircase. Hermione gasped and fell backwards as Draco jumped in front of her. Then the sound of footsteps, lots of them, could be heard coming their way. Before she could say anything, Draco had grabbed her hand and dragged her back up the staircase, a silver peacock streaming from the end of his wand. They backed themselves against a wall, breathing heavy, his arm was across the top of her chest as he craned his head to try and see around the corner. When he turned back, his eyes were wide with dread.

‘At least 10,’ he whispered, his voice shaking, his breathing erratic. 10, there was no way they could 10 alone. She thought hard, trying to bring all the hexes she knew, but none that would do them all. She felt Draco tugging at her again as he pulled her into the room opposite and they ducked down behind furniture. Beyond the open door, Hermione could see them all making their way up the stairs, their silver masks twisted on their faces. Looking at them was equal to looking at extinction. She gripped the edge of the sofa they were crouched behind to balance her and felt a hand on top of hers. She looked over to see Draco grip her hand with him, and then looked to his eyes to see him staring at her. In an instant she knew what he was going to do. 

‘No!’ she mouthed, shaking her head at him, grabbing at his arm as he rose slowly, smirked at her, letting her hand fall out of his and ran. He streamed past the Death Eaters, and they followed, shooting curses at him as he went.

She could not think about him, she could not think about what state she would find him in - if it was any state at all. She just started to shoot hexes, one after the other, the light streaming from the end of her wand illuminating the hallway as she ran after them. Some of the Death Eaters turned their wands to her, she dodged as best she could, but caught a stinging jinx to the arm and fell behind a wardrobe grabbing it. She gritted her teeth against the pain, throwing a mutation hex down the corridor and closing her eyes.

‘Hermione’ opened them to see Harry in front of her and Ron ran past her throwing jinxes as he went. ‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah,’ she nodded, ‘Draco ran that way,’ she pointed and they both followed Ron’s path.

As they battled, the number of Death Eaters fell to the stunning jinxes that were being thrown and Hermione made sure they were detained quickly. It was reminiscent of the war for her, the sounds of crushing stone and reflected curses. But it did not take long for the castle to fall silent except for the grunts from bound wizards. They found Draco in a room at the far end of the hallway, slumped against the wall, cuts on his face, but alive. 

‘Where’s Dawlish?’ Draco asked when he saw them walk into the room.

‘He’s fine, just knocked out,’ Ron said. ‘We put a protection charm over him and came straight here,’ He walked over and grabbed Hermione’s arm to look at the sting, she hissed through her teeth at the contact.

‘Did you have eyes on Greyback?’ Harry asked.

‘No, we haven’t seen him,’ Hermione said. Harry and Ron turned away from her, looking at Draco wordlessly trying to think of a new plan.

‘If he was here, the noise would have brought him out of hiding,’ Ron suggested.

‘Too right,’ a haggard voice came from behind them all and Hermione did not have time to scream before she was grabbed from behind and dragged into strong arms, held against a body. 

‘Hermione!’ screamed Draco, as he leapt forward.

‘Not one move,’ said the growl that held her crushingly close, so close it was difficult to breathe. The voice chilled her blood and she let out a whimper. She didn’t need to see the horror in their faces to know who it was, the smell flooding her senses took her back to Malfoy Manor immediately.

‘Greyback…’ Harry said.

‘No, No. This is not a negotiation,’ Greyback snarled. He forced Hermione’s head to one side, causing her to wince against him. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see his face getting closer to her neck. Her lips trembled as he held her, as she tried to regain control as her brain went into overdrive.

‘Your mudblood is mine - I already claimed her.’ She could feel the smile against her skin and she let out a small sob. She closed her eyes, trying to shut down her senses, not wanting to look at the boys as they watched her in this moment. She did not struggle against him, knowing that the hands that held her had claws that could disfigure her more than before. It was just the Manor all over again, they had been stupid to come here and think they could best him.

He started to drag her slowly backward to the door, and that was when she felt it. Her wand was lodged at her side - now was the time to be brave. She shoved her foot back into Greyback’s knee, making his cringe slightly. She used this motions to grab her wand, praying it was the correct end, and shooting him a stinging jinx. He released her instantly and she ran forward into Ron’s arms, knocking them both to the floor, their wands flying as Harry and Draco shot forward.

She watched as they battled him together, their wands moving in sync like a ballet. Hermione and Ron were scrambling to the floor to get their wands when she saw it, Greyback yelled and pulled a knife from his pocket - the knife. The one that Bellatrix had used on her. He leapt towards Harry, screaming as he did so….but Draco pushed Harry aside into the wardrobe at the side of the room. Greyback landed on Draco and with a sneer Greyback looked into his face.

‘You always were a coward Malfoy, just like your father, you don’t deserve to be honoured at all.’

Before Harry could cast anything, they watched in horror as Greyback plunged the knife into Draco’s arm, dragging it downward and leaving it at his wrist. As Draco let out an unearthly scream, Greyback turned, leaping out the window, apparating as he went.

She ran to him, collapsing over him as the blood began to pour over the wood below. He was writhing and screaming in pain, she couldn’t hear Harry or Ron screaming at her over the noise. It went through her very bones.

‘Hermione,’ she looked round in fright to see Harry next to her. ‘Take him, take him now. We’ll get Dawlish.’ she was frozen looking at him. ‘TAKE HIM!’ he yelled at her as she placed a hand on his chest and turned into nothingness.

  
  


They hit the cold floor of the Grimmauld Place entrance hall less than a second later, another scream left Draco’s mouth. Her hands were shaking as he vanished his shirt with a flick of her wand, and she was nearly sick at the sight of his arm. The knife was an inch deep in his arm, resting at the bottom of a cut that ran from the inside of his elbow and right through his Dark Mark. The blood pouring out was a deep red, she was sure he had punctured his artery. 

‘Accio Medical Supplies,’ she shouted, hearing the box of potions slide across the floor towards her. His screaming had stopped, but he was sobbing.

‘Vulnera Sanentur’ she said, watching the blood stop as the spell fell from her lips.

‘I have to take the knife out,’ she cried at him, but he did not open his eyes, just nodded at her. 

She took the handle gently, feeling the cold metal under her fingers and, blocking out any thoughts of this knife on her skin, she pulled. He screamed. She cried.

All she could do was work over him, pouring potions onto his skin, pouring them into his mouth, trying to ignore his tears and cried as she touched his tender wound. He writhed when she tried to extract the curse from his skin that the knife left, his fingers twitched when she ran her wand along the wound, trying to get it back together. 

‘Draco, I’m going to have to sew it by hand,’ she said in a small voice, running her hand along his forehead, aching for him to look at her. But he did not, he just nodded and sobbed.

It took more than 20 minutes to finish and she had had to stop a few times from the shaking in her hands, but she had done it. For the entire time she just repeated the words ‘I’m sorry,’ to him, it reminded her of Harry, maybe that’s why she did it.. He had stopped crying about half way through, but his wracking breaths had told her that he was still in pain - she knew he was, the curse of the knife made sure that no numbing spell or potion would work. She had tried to dull it like he had for her, but she did not know the strength and could not focus.

She tied off the thread and dropped the needle to her side, still in her knees bent over him, she took in the sight. He was covered in blood, it pooled from under him and along the entrance hall, there were stains of it in his hair and across his face where she had touched him. His arm was swollen, slightly green and purple. The needle work wasn’t bad, but she knew it would scar him forever. It laid directly in the middle of his mark, making it appear lopsided against his paler than usual skin. It too was surrounded by blood, she would need to clean him. Finally, she looked at her own hands, they were drenched in it.

She looked at his face, his eyes were open and searching her for something. She laid the palms of her hands on him, one of his chest and the other on his forehead. She hung her head and cried.

* * *

Notes - A beautiful baby moment, to a chapter with two battles references. Sorry for trying to give you all whiplash. Stay safe everyone.


	14. Chapter 14

‘No name yet?’ her mother asked, tearing her eyes away from her grandson and looking at Hermione.

‘Not yet Mum, we can’t think of any,’ she smiled, leaning back on the sofa as Draco walked in with cups of coffee for everyone. As he handed one to her Dad, he spoke.

‘We are trying to come up with something as great as he is,’ Draco smiled, her dad did not. He looked pointedly at Hermione.

‘What does Harry suggest?’ her Dad asked, glowering at Draco as he asked. 

‘Dad, we haven’t asked him because it’s not his son,’ Hermione sighed.

‘What about Ron then?’ her mum asked in a high voice, smiling at her. 

‘Mum…’ Hermione cried in exasperation.

They were always like this around Draco, had been since she had introduced them to him in the summer after eighth year. They had travelled to Australia together, their first real big trip as a couple, and had been so excited to spend time with each other and her parents. But as soon as they arrived, her parents had been strange and distant. Hermione had never known her parents to be protective or disapproving, but to Draco they were both in abundance. Originally, she had thought it was because of the times she may have mentioned him throughout their school years, the boy who bullied their daughter - but the more their relationship grew she had hoped her parents would be able to see Draco for who is now. But it seemed that day never came. She was lucky that they supported her decisions but it had not stopped her father talking to her about it moments before she had walked down the aisle at her wedding, or her mother suggesting inappropriate ideas to her when she told her she was pregnant. And Harry and Ron were the weapon of choice for the two of them, and they knew it riled Draco up. 

‘Unfortunately Jean,’ Draco sighed, placing her mug on the coffee table in front of her, ‘Ron is not the father either.’

‘Quite,’ her mother sighed back at him. Hermione tried to catch his eye as he walked past, flashing him a sympathetic look, but he just shrugged.

‘I’ll leave you to it,’ he said, making his way out back to the garden, picking up a book on the way. She knew he was upset.

‘Why do you have to be like that?’ Hermione sighed at them once the door was shut.

‘Like what darling? We only wanted to know our grandson’s name,’ he mum smiled innocently.

‘It isn’t our fault your husband is so sensitive.’ her father laughed.

She wanted to scream at them, tell them they were unreasonable and that Draco wasn’t going anywhere. But she ached and knew that if she were to have this conversation now, she would cry. She was filled with hormones and full to the brim with pain potions and with Draco now in the garden, had no one to lean on. So she changed the topic of conversation but made it very clear in her tone she was not impressed.

Draco came back into the house to say goodbye to her parents, who were staying at a hotel nearby, and once the front door was shut, started gathering cups from around the room to take into the kitchen. He stood in front of the sink, his hands supporting him on the edge of the counter and looked out of the window. She followed him, standing behind and laying her forehead against his spine, tracing her fingertips up his arms.

‘I’m sorry about them,’ she muttered into his t-shirt.

‘I know you are,’ he sighed back, hanging his head. ‘It isn’t your apology to make.’ He said turning around to face her and planting a kiss on her lips.

‘I know but...they aren’t going to make it. I just wanted them to...we just had a baby for christ sake!’ she moaned and could feel the anger building in the pit of her stomach, looking at her feet to try to stay grounded.

‘Hey,’ he said softly, hooking his fingers under her chin and lifting her head up. ‘We just had a baby - don’t let them ruin it.’

She collapsed against him, her head buried against his chest while he wrapped his arms around her, trailing his hands up and down her back. She was exhausted, the aching sensation throbbing in her body and tiredness consuming her at every available moment. The smell of him, however, was calming and comforting and so she rubbed her nose against his collar, eliciting a small chuckle from him.

‘You smell good,’ she muttered into his shirt, and he laughed again. She looked up at him and his eyes were wide with joy.

‘Now that they’re gone, do you want me to patronus for Harry and Ron to come back over?’ he smiled at her as she nodded. 

Breaking away from him she went to the bassinet on the coffee table and gently picked the baby up, cradling him against her body. She saw Draco enter and flick his wand, expecting to see his peacock flutter out of the window, but she jumped when a large scorpion walked past her legs.

Her head snapped to his and his mouth was wide open, as if he too had no idea what had happened. 

‘That was….’ she started to say, but lost the words as he smirked at her.

‘...new.’ he finished.

‘What were you thinking about?’ she asked breathlessly.

‘The little one,’ he offered with a smile. Still staring at him, a name came to her mind and she smiled.

‘Scorpius….’ she whispered.

  
  


* * *

He had been asleep for two days. Her eyes stung as she had them trained on him, blinking as little as she could, fighting the tiredness that she continued to feel all over her body. He was perfectly still, apart from the low rise and fall of his chest as he took steady breaths. The two days had been a long blur of watching.

Harry had apparted next to her not long after she had finished up her work on him in the entrance hall. He had asked her questions to calm her tears and made it clear that they had to move Draco from the cold floor. Ron had joined them minutes later, telling them that Dawlish was okay and with the Minister at that moment. He had paled upon seeing Draco on the dark wooden floor and the amount of blood that had been left there. 

Hermione had tried to clean it with a charm, but her magic was weak as she tried to focus on Draco and Ron had taken her shaking hand in his and done the job for her. Harry had moved Draco to the room opposite hers and told her that he had changed him into some sweatpants and he had fallen asleep. Without words she had moved up the stairs, past the two boys staring at her, and had set up camp in the armchair at the side of the bed. 

They had tried to get her to eat, to shower, to move - but she had refused it all. She just sat there, staring at his still body, her mind working on coming to terms with what she was seeing in front of her. The last image of him in her mind was that of fear as he looked up to her, his arm open like a discarded envelope. The last sound, the long drawn moan as the needle pierced his skin for the final time. Her heart ached to hear his voice, her mind ached for relief.

‘Hermione,’ came a small voice from behind her and she saw Ginny standing there. She furrowed her eyebrows in confusion and shook her head,trying to clear any hallucinations. She was still there.

‘Ginny - what are you doing here?’ she asked.

‘Harry asked McGonagall if I could come and visit for the afternoon.’ so it was the afternoon, she thought to herself. She had lost all concept of time at this point.

‘That was nice of her,’ she said. Her lips twinged at the corners as she tried to smile, but instead she turned her head right back to stare at the blonde in the bed before her. She felt Ginny move around her and kneel beside her. Ginny took her hand and Hermione could not sit there without looking down at her. Her face was full of worry and Hermione knew she would try to persuade her to move.

‘Hermione, you have been in here for two days,’ she said. She spoke slowly and every syllable sunk into Hermione's mind. ‘You need to get some sleep.’

‘I can’t!’ she whispered back at her and felt Ginny squeeze her hand.

‘You can’t look after him if you aren’t well,’ Ginny tried to encourage her, but Hermione could not reply.

‘He’s just sleeping, he can sleep without you,’ Ginny smiled.

‘It’s my job to watch over him,’ Hermione said, looking back at her, desperation in her eyes. ‘I always take first watch.’ 

  
  


_ They had walked for hours after they had left Dumbledore’s office, all three of them hand in hand, tripping over rock and debris as they went. They walked to Dumbledore’s tomb and Harry left the Elder Wand there. They walked to the Great Hall and wept with the others. They walked to the Gryffindor common room and stood staring at the empty portrait of The Fat Lady. _

_ ‘I guess she’s had enough,’ said Ron as he walked towards the empty canvas. _

_ ‘Maybe she’s gone to visit another portrait?’ Harry suggested, looking at the two of them. _

_ As Ron reached out to touch the frame, the door swung open. Hermione half expected the corridor to fill with cheers as she had heard it do so many times when she accompanied Harry back to the dormitory. But there was nothing, only silence.  _

_ Ron stepped through first and Hermione followed into the empty room. It was untouched from the battle, its red and gold walls still glistening in the flames that echoed from the hearth. The portraits in here were empty too. Hermione felt so strange walking in here, it felt as if they were just leaving Dumbledore’s funeral - like time had stood still. But of course, she knew it was all different now.  _

_ She and Ron turned to look at Harry, who was standing just inside the room looking around. She wondered if he was thinking the same as her. Was he remembering night after night of childish conversations? Was he thinking about celebratory parties and adolescent kisses or was he thinking about all the ways in which they would never be the same again, nothing would be the same again. _

_ Without warning, he started to move but collapsed to his knees in front of them.  _

_ ‘Harry!’ Hermione gasped, rushing over and throwing herself down in front of him, Lifting his face to look at her, she noticed tears running down his face. Ron was next to fall and grab Harry around the middle, forcing him to sit up. _

_ ‘Where are you hurt mate?’ he asked hurriedly, trying to look to see if he was bleeding. But Harry just shook his head as he sobbed, placing both his hands out for them. _

_ ‘Harry, we are here. What is it?’ Hermione asked as he brought his hand to cup her face, his other going to Ron’s shoulder. _

_ And suddenly she knew - he could not believe it was over. This was seven years of grief and anguish and he could not handle it. Hermione collapsed from her knees to sit, pulling him in between her legs, hugging him to her. Harry’s sobs became louder now and he curled against her form. Ron came into her vision behind Harry, his face was grey and he was shaking his head. _

_ ‘Hermione, I don’t know what to do!’ he cried, looking at Harry full of worry. _

_ ‘Just hold him!’ she whispered, pulling her hands up to cradle Harry. _

_ Ron sat behind him, looking very unsure. His grey cheeks began to flush as his chest touched Harry’s back. Ron’s hands flickered between touching Harry’s shoulders and then not, as if he was scared of what he might find when he held them there. She watched him do this with glassy eyes, somewhere deep inside her whispered a hidden truth that she turned away from. _

_ Hermione let go of Harry’s shaking body to grab Ron’s hands and pull them towards Harry. And they sat like that, holding their best friend between them while his heart broke in front of them. His heart broke for everyone who had lost their battle, everyone who had laid their life down in front of Voldemort. He wept for his own life, the one he had willingly thrown down at the mercy of The Dark Lord. It seemed strange in this moment, as she locked eyes with Ron across Harry’s head, that they did not cry with him. But she wanted Harry to have this moment, wanted him to feel safe and loved while everything did not collapse around him.  _

_ She did not know how long they sat but eventually, Harry’s sobs died down - but they did not move. Ron had hung his head to rest on Harry’s shoulder, both their breathing deep and even. Hermione watched as Harry slowly fell asleep under their weight. Silently, she asked Ron to help her and he slowly gathered Harry in his arms, Hermione using her wand to help Ron lift him up the stairs to the boys dormitory. _

_ As they entered the room, it too was familiar and eerie, but empty of the valuables that usually adorned the walls and headboards. Ron laid Harry in his old bed, slipping off first Harry’s shoes, then his own. Covering Harry with the duvet, Ron sat against the headboard next to him. He too closed his eyes, resting his head back against the bed and he too, was soon fast asleep. Hermione cast a few protection charms around them; one to ensure that Ron did not fall off, the other to block out the noise - she knew that they needed time. She crossed the room and grabbed as many pillows as she could from the other beds. She sat on the edge of the bed next to Harry, building the pillow around her crossing her legs under her. Taking his hand in hers, she decided to take the first watch. _

  
  


Ginny had left hours ago. She had tried to convince Hermione to leave her post, but had been unsuccessful and had returned to the Grimmauld Place kitchen. She had heard them talking for hours, their tones echoing through the door Ginny had left open when she went downstairs. It was another ploy to get Hermione to leave, but her stomach told her to stay where she was. She could tell that Draco was becoming restless in his sleep, his fingers had begun to twitch.

She looked to the plate that sat across the room, the uneaten sandwich sitting there curling at the edges. Ron had brought it up when she heard Ginny leave, he entered the room silently, hovering in the doorway and then leaving in silence. She knew he wanted to speak to her, wanted to ask how Draco was, but he just could not find the words. She was not angry for that, she knew his feelings towards Draco were far from amicable, but she respected that he wanted to ask.

She could feel her eyes begin to drop as she sat staring at him. She fought as the exhaustion swaddled her, threatening to pull her under. Every nerve in her body shook as she fought it, staring at his body and watching his limbs twitch as her head lolled forward and her chin hit her chest. 

She fell into yellow eyes, she fell into the smile on her neck, the smell of the dirt invading her senses. She clawed at his hand on her chest and struggled against his form. It was worse than before, his nails digging into her side as his tongue left his lips to stroke the nape of her neck. It sickened her.

She jumped awake, clutching the ends of the sides of the chair she was in and breathed deep, escaping the feelings in her chest. She touched the sides of her body, checking for new scratches but could not feel any. Then as quickly as she had seen yellow, she thought of him and how she was meant to be watching him. Her eyes flew to him - and found him staring back. He was sat up in the bed and watching her.

‘You did a good job on the arm,’ he said in a low tone, she could tell his voice was ragged. 

'How does it feel?’ she asked, sitting forward, her eyes scanning it for signs of damage. The swelling had gone down but a nasty purple tinge remained.

‘Sore,’ he said, a small smile graced his lips as he looked at her.

She did not know what to say to him. She had thought about it over the last two days and of all the countless conversations they had had in her head, not one of them seemed to fit now that she was staring at him. 

‘I’m sorry about…’ she gestured to the mark and the poor way in which she had sewn it back together. ‘You will have a scar there now - I tried!’

He cleared his throat and spoke again. ‘It was already a pretty bad scar,’ he said. ‘Anything you would do could only make it better.’

And again, they fell into silence. She fiddled with her hands, trying to look anywhere but him. 48 hours of staring and it would seem that her eyes had had enough of his golden bed head and his chiselled naked torso. The torso that her eyes were dragging over as they spoke.

‘Granger…’ he said, heavily moving his arm to rest on his leg and wincing, ‘Are you okay?’

‘You’re asking if I’m okay? Your arm was split in half!’ she exclaimed.

‘And you faced someone that only appears in your worst nightmares!’ he said calmly and she tried not to react. ‘Seriously, are you okay?’ he pushed.

‘Yes Malfoy! I am fine!’

‘Back to Malfoy am I?’ he questioned her and she furrowed her eyebrows at him. ‘You spent a lot of time calling me Draco when you were trying to fix me.’

‘Yeah well...it was an emergency. I didn’t want you to be scared…’ she cast her eyes downwards.

‘I was terrified,’ he whispered and her eyes snapped back to his. 

‘What?’ she asked him.

‘I was terrified. From the moment I saw them shoot Dawlish and I took your hand, I was more scared than I have been since helping you escape the Manor.’

She was glaring at him, wondering if he was being truthful or just saying what she wanted to hear. His eyes were searching her in earnest, trying to figure out if she believed him.

‘When you took my hand in the castle,’ she said slowly, ‘I knew what you were going to do. I knew you were going to risk your life to catch him.’

‘How did you know?’ he asked.

‘I have seen you risk your life for me before. But it’s funny - this was the first time it hurt me.’

‘Hurt you?’

She took a deep breath, composing herself. ‘When you took my hand and looked at me and I knew what you were going to do, it felt like my stomach dropped out of my body.’ He was no longer looking at her, he was fiddling with the duvet. ‘I didn’t want you to leave me and know that you might not return.’

‘Draco,’ she cried, her throat thick with emotion. The way she spoke made him look at her. ‘Your body was bleeding under me and you couldn’t speak to me. I thought you were dead!’

‘It’s not a nice feeling is it?’ he asked. ‘Seeing someone you care about in danger!’ he said it so quietly that might not have said it at all. She raised herself from the chair and walked towards him, sitting on the edge of the bed.

‘Someone you care about?’ she repeated, raising an eyebrow and he smirked at her.

‘Don’t play dumb Granger - I heard you and Potter talking the other night,’ he growled at her.

‘You were supposed to be having a nightmare!’ she said to him.

‘You and Potter should learn not to have secret talks in front of my bedroom door!’

She breathed, thinking about what he was saying, thinking back to the conversation with Harry.

‘So...what Harry said about...what you said to them when Ron punched you…’

‘That morning,’ he interrupted her. ‘I woke up to the most amazing person lying next to me and I knew that no moment was going to be any better.’ She blushed under his attention and looked away. ‘Then I got a tap at the window and my mother’s owl had come with a message telling me to come home and discuss a proposal. I didn’t want to leave you - now I think I should have just stayed and dealt with it - but I am an idiot!’ he laughed.

‘I spoke to Theo that morning,’ Hermione said. ‘He said there was a mistake and I assumed you meant me.’

‘When I got back and you were gone...I knew you hadn’t read my note’

‘Note?’ she asked. ‘It just said sorry.’

‘The back of the note said I would be back later that day. I came back saw it hadn’t moved and -and wanted to just - well - be with you and I couldn’t find you. I ran to McGonagall and it took me a while to get her to spill but when she told me you went to Grimmauld, I just knew that you didn’t want to be with me.’ he looked away from her, his voice breaking.

‘I did…’ she said quickly, taking his good hand. ‘I do!’

‘You do?’ his cool exterior broke for a moment and then he steeled himself for her next words. She squeezed his hand and brought up the other one to his cheek, he went to flinch away from her touch but then relaxed into her. The familiar knot in her stomach began to form.

‘Draco - from the moment you kissed me by the lake I wanted you. It hasn’t taken me sleeping with you, or seeing you bleed out on Harry's floor to tell me that. I have pushed you away because of - well - because I am the idiot.’

‘You are anything but an idiot!’ he laughed, sliding his hand to the back of her neck and pulling her towards him.

His lips pressed against hers - not like by the lake or in their bathroom - it was desperate and needy. He was showing her how much he wanted her and the way his lips moved against her made the dragon in her keen and roar. She slid her hand from his cheek and into his hair, shifting herself closer to him she deepened the kiss, letting his tongue slide along her bottom lip. She moaned against him and felt his hand travel down from her neck to the small of her back. They kissed until her lungs felt like fire and she couldn't take it anymore. Breaking apart they were both breathing heavily.

‘Hermione, we should probably talk!’ he smiled weakly at her.

‘I’ve had enough of talking,’ she said, moving towards him, climbing onto his lap. His face broke into a grin as she sat on him, sliding her hands through his hair and down to his shoulders, steadying herself on him.

She started to pepper kisses along his jawline and down his neck. Draco started to moan and she smiled against his warm skin. She could feel his hands travelling up the denim on her thighs, a warmth spreading across her abdomen as he did so. They moved from her legs to the hem of her shirt, exploring the flesh he found there. She had moved back to his lips, letting her tongue explore his mouth and groaning as she ground against him. She could already feel his hardness beneath her, pressing against her as they kissed.

This was nothing like before. Christmas had been gentle and tender, he had taken her like she was delicate and needed protecting, but right now she wanted so much to show him that he needed her as much as she had needed him. Show him how much he meant to her and why she had watched over him. 

He quickly removed her shirt and broke their kiss so that he could move his lips across her breasts and the lace of her bra. She chuckled lightly when he nipped the skin there, trailing his hand behind her to unclasp the material that now stood in his way. The lace fell away like silk, leaving her bare for him. He drew his head back and she watched him staring at her. She blushed and tried to cover herself with her arms, but his hands stopped her.

‘You are gorgeous - please don’t cover yourself,’ he whispered.

She watched as his finger lightly traced around her areola, eliciting a small moan from her. She smiled as he watched her, then ducked his head to take her nipple in his mouth. The feel of his hot tongue working her sent shivers down her spine. She gripped his shoulder tighter, grinding herself against him again. Draco moaned around her, the vibrations sent shockwaves through her body and she could already feel the arousal in her underwear. 

For someone who had slept for two days without food, Draco was incredibly strong she thought to herself as he brought himself up, pushing her back to the bed. She looked down and he was kneeling between her legs, his eyes were dark and he looked predatory as he crawled towards her. He bent over her and trailed kisses down her stomach, dipping his tongue into her bellybutton. She moaned again, her hips moving up towards him.

‘Patience Granger,’ he growled, peering up from her waistband. 

Moving his hands up, he undid the button on her jeans and she lifted her hips to help him pull them and her underwear off, throwing them behind him as he bent back down. Her breath was fast and needy as he traced his hand up her inner thigh, following with small kisses and nipping as he went. She could feel her clit throbbing as he got closer and just the feel of his hot breath against her made her back arch and her mouth to create a noise she had never heard before. She twisted her hips upwards again, trying so hard to get him to touch her but he pulled back and chuckled again, the surge of air driving her crazy.

‘What did I say about patience?’ he muttered.

‘Please…’ she whispered.

‘Please what?’ he asked her, she could hear the smirk on his lips.

‘I need you...please…’

Before she could get out any more words, his mouth descended on her, his tongue darting out to circle her clit. She threw her arms to cover her face, his touch was electric and she found it hard to stay grounded. She felt his hand move underneath her, cupping her and using his fingers to slide into her. It was unlike anything she had felt before, the movement of his tongue against her and his fingers inside her made the fire within her roar. The flames were licking at her lungs as she tried to control her breathing. He found something within her, a spot that she did not know existed and when he pushed it, she saw stars behind her eyes and let out a small scream of pleasure. 

‘Hermione?’ she heard someone yell from downstairs, and her eyes were wide as her face shot to the door and saw that it was still open. If anyone were to walk past right now they would see her completely naked. This was something she had avoided for a whole year in a tent, she wanted to keep it that way. But thoughts were thrown from her mind as Draco pressed that spot again and she could feel him pulling her towards the edge. 

She tried to twist away from his caresses to grab her want from the chair, but his other arm flew across her abdomen holding her down. She heard him laugh and mutter something under his breath and the door slammed shut above her just as he claimed her clit again with his lips. She shuddered and moaned under him.

‘Hermione!’ she heard the yell again, this time dulled by the wood. She sighed and sunk back into the feel of his fingers within her, bringing her closer to the peak. She was shaking under him, the long strokes with his tongue making her writhe beneath him.

Before she could take another breath she was falling under him, crashing down, her mind in overdrive as she let her body take in the feeling of him in and around her. She let out an airy scream as she came and became boneless as he crawled up her and smiled down on her. He leant in and kissed her, she could taste herself on him and feel her wetness on his stubble. 

‘Enjoy that did you?’ he asked with a smile on his face. He looked far too pleased with himself over her and she was desperate to even the playing field.

She pushed on him, turning them until she was straddling him again and, feeling very brave, she hooked her hands into his sweatpants and pushed them down. She took in the sight of him, drinking in the way he looked naked against the bedsheets below her. She took him in her hand, brushing her thumb over the tip where his precum had gathered and smiled as she watched his eyes roll back in his head. He arched his hips off the bed, pushing himself into her hand. He looked otherworldly as he plunged his fingers into the sheets below him, twisting them and pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. She found it very hard not to moan at the way he looked, muscles rippling as she moved her hand up and down.

‘Hermione, if you don’t want it to end like this you are going to have to stop that,’ he looked her dead in the eye as his scratchy voice called to her. She smiled a wicked smile and drew herself up, straddling him again and feeling him brush her as she moved. Her eyes fluttered as she sat over him and he brought his hands up to cup the soft flesh on the underside of her breast. She leant over, bracing herself on her hands as she positioned herself over him and with a breath, began to sink down. 

Suddenly she was stilled in her motions by a knock at the door and she heard Harry’s voice. ‘Hermione? Are you okay?’

She tried as hard as she could to steady her voice as she looked down at Draco, trying not to move. ‘Yes,’ she called back. She could see a glint in Draco’s eyes as he grinned and tried to push up into her. She gritted her teeth trying not to moan as she felt him inch into her, stretching around him, quivering with the effort to not slam herself down.

‘Are you sure? Is Malfoy okay?’ he continued questioning her. Usually she would love this side of him, but right now she was too preoccupied.

‘Yes, I’ll be down in a minute,’ she said, but lost her concentration as Draco grabbed her hips with her hands, pushing his fingers down into her skin and pulled her down onto him. She moaned loudly at the feel on him inside her, but her eyes shot open when she realised how loud she had been.

‘Oh….’ she heard Harry say and tried not to imagine his bright red face. ‘Ummm….bye…’ she heard his footsteps retreat and looked down as Draco with fire in her eyes.

‘What was that?’ she glared at him, moaning when he rolled his hips.

‘Sorry love, if you didn’t move soon I was going to blow him up!’ he laughed, taking her hand and rolling them so that she was pinned under him.

He kissed her deeply as he started to move, slowly at first but as she met him with every thrust he changed and set a punishing pace. Her fingers were clawing at his back as he drove into her and she lifted her legs, wrapping them around his lower back and using her feet to push him even further. He was trailing kisses over her shoulder and moaning into her ear, the hiss he made when she dug her fingers into him, sent a tingling through her.

‘What do you want Hermione?’ he groaned to her.

‘Please Draco...I want you…I want you…’ she panted, the mantra spilling out of her lips as he pushed into her, dragging himself back out with passion.

‘What do you want from me?’ he asked again, his deep voice rattling against her chest. Her palms moved to his neck and shoulders, the slight sheen of the sweat covering his body visible under the lights. 

‘I want to come...please…’ she begged him, as his head dipped to take a nipple in his mouth again. 

He pulled back, bringing her knee over his shoulder, the angle thrusting him deeper and into the spot that he had found earlier. She contracted around him, the stars back in her eyes as he lowered his head to concentrate, bringing his fingers between them to trace against her clit. It did not take long before she was screaming under him, screaming his name and begging him for more. She felt him drop down onto his elbows and kiss her, taking her scream into his mouth and burying a hand in her hair. 

‘Oh my…’ he groaned, thrusting into her and meeting her as he too succumbed to the fall of his orgasm.

For a long while after, they lay like that, him inside her and on top, her pinned to the bed and stroking her hands through his hair and down the base of his neck. Once their breathing had slowed a little, he sat back on his haunches, and took a long look at his arm. She pulled herself up, following him and took his arm in her hands - it looked the same as before.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked him, still a little out of breath, legs shaking from the effort of sitting up so soon. He looked away from his arm and let his hand fall into her hair again, drawing himself down for another kiss.

‘I’m fantastic,’ he said.

* * *

Notes - They have finally stopped fighting and glaring and being silent. I am hoping that I will now be able to write a whole lot more smut :)


	15. Chapter 15

She dragged herself from under the warm pressure of the blanket and moved wordlessly across the room to the fussy bundle. Her eyes stayed closed as she padded the path towards him, her feet rising and falling on the high rise pile carpet. She did not need to look at him to know that his eyes were open as well, an instinctive feeling that Hermione thought she would never get used to. She knew from the sounds he made whether he was awake or asleep, whether he needed something or just wanted one of them.

She picked Scorpius up and pulled him towards her chest, guiding his mouth towards her and hoping that he was just hungry as she did not want to have to open her eyes for anything. She winced and hissed through her teeth as he pulled too hard on her. Placing a soft hand to the top of his head, she brushed her thumb through the slight tuft of hair she found there, cursing internally as it did not stop him pulling again.

She padded back towards the bed, where she saw him spread before her. She smiled, knowing she should be annoyed that he had not stirred to the sound of his son, but could not because he looked so damn beautiful. She sat crossed legged on the bed, bringing a pillow around to help her cradle Scorpius, letting her head fall back and taking a deep breath.

She was happy - more than happy than she had ever been. But she was tired. Was this how Harry felt at the end of the war? Was this how Draco felt when he turned up at shell cottage? She was pulled from her musing by the trailing of a cold fingertip down her spine.

‘He hungry?’ Draco asked. She heard him shifting in the bed next to her.

‘Yes, little bugger won’t stop pulling at me.’ she whispered back. And she, all of sudden, felt overwhelmed by the emotions flooding her and the feeling of his skin on hers and she let out a small sob, it flew towards the ceiling as a tear escaped and rolled down her cheek.

‘Okay!’ he whispered, shushing her and he moved to sit behind her, splitting his legs either side of her and pulling her gently back to rest on his chest. As she leant back, he placed a kiss in her hair. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘Nothing,’ she whispered. ‘I’m just….’ she sighed as she did not know how to tell him something that she didn’t know how to explain.

Draco moved his head forward until his forehead rested on her shoulder and brought both his hands to trace up and down her arms. He placed small kisses along her collarbone, steadying her breath and calming her down as he went. She felt Scorpius pull away from her, so she brought him up to lay across her chest and leant fully into Draco, letting him take all her weight.

‘You two are my world,’ he sighed against her skin, brushing her curls away from the nape of her neck and planting another kiss there.

Sitting with him like this and his small touches always made her smile and blush. Near the beginning it has been enticing and arousing. Feeling her around him would burn her, turn her into a pool of water that wanted nothing more than to be below him. Every caress was liquid smoke , his chuckle against her would vibrate into her and put her on edge. They had been wild and insatiable, found it hard to keep their hands off each other when alone. Even when angry, which the two of them often were, they were explosive. Now, it was like every moment with him brought her closer to safety, closer to comfort. 

She sighed, letting the darkness wash over her as she sunk into his body.

  
  


* * *

‘Do you want Earl Grey, Green, Fruit?’ she asked, holding up a box of tea bags as he looked at her from the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame, a t-shirt hanging loosely from his frame.

‘Why do they have so much tea?’ Draco asked back.

‘Harry is low key obsessed with making tea,’ she giggles at the look of disregard on his face.

‘Does he have camomile?’ his eyebrow perked up. Hermione chuckled and turned to fill the teapot with water.

They had finally emerged from his bedroom when Harry and Ron had gone to bed; Hermione did not really feel like facing Harry after what he had heard. She did not really want to leave at all, feeling his hands on her was all that she wanted, but she had not been able to take his complaining about wasting away any longer. Draco was still weak from the poison of the knife coursing through his veins, so she had supported him down the stairs but he had continued to moan at her about being treated like a child.

As the kettle filled, her gaze wandered to the darkened windows and to her own reflection there. Catching sight of herself; hair untamable and native, tanned skin flushed with want she tried not to grin. She felt just like she had Christmas morning before she had turned to find herself alone, like she could take on the world.

‘What are you thinking about?’ he whispered as she felt him push behind her. His hand snaked to move her hair aside as he began to kiss up her neck. She rolled her head, giving him better access, allowing him to nip at the skin at the base of her neck. She moaned, pushing back against him, feeling his hands grip at her hips as he pulled her even closer.

‘You are overfilling my kettle.’

They jumped apart to see Harry standing at the door with a smirk on his face. Draco moved slowly to sit down at the table, cringing as he put weight on his arm.

‘Malfoy, good to see you’re alive,’ he commented.

‘I’m making tea do you…’

‘No, you are not touching my tea.’ he said, walking over and taking the kettle out of her hands. He brushed past her and placed the kettle on the stove, turning it on with a flick of his wand.

‘I would also appreciate it if you didn’t hump in my kitchen!’ he laughed even as he was saying it.

‘Hump, Potter? I’m sorry but are we first years?’ Draco drawled at him from the kitchen table. Hermione leant up against the counter, watching the two of them spar.

‘Even a first year would know to shut the door before engaging in oral sex in someone else’s house,’ Harry said, cocking his head, his eyebrow raised. Hermione could feel the heat splash her face. 

‘A first year Potter? We really need to have a conversation about how you view 11 year olds!’ Draco drawled.

‘Piss off Malfoy,’ Harry laughed, as the kettle began to whistle.

‘I think that you interrupted our tea break Potter!’

‘And thank Merlin I did - limescale is a serious issue when it comes to my kettle.’ He was now pouring water into mugs and brewing three different varieties of tea.

‘The Chosen One - Defeater of Limescale, Defender of Kettle’s!’ Draco said in a deep, echoey voice. Hermione chuckled, taking the tea he handed to her.

‘Okay boys,’ she said, sitting next to Draco and sipping on her tea. Harry sat down opposite them.

‘Now I am in no position to tell you what you can and can’t do,’ Harry said, Draco scoffed and rolled her eyes. ‘But have you two considered what others are going to say about this?’

‘Harry I know you are concerned, but I don’t see why I should care about what others think. I never have before.’

‘Hermione, Potter is right. Everyone is going to have a lot to say about this!’ he said, leaning back in his chair. She narrowed her eyes at him, trust Malfoy and Potter to ruin her just-fucked glow.

‘And so what if they do?’

‘I am a Death Eater….former….’ he said when she caught his eye. ‘You are the brains of the Golden Trio - people are going to be angry, and think I have done something or...or...try to break us apart. Let’s be honest it’s not as if we are the most secure two people.’

‘But what does that mean?’ Hermione said.’

‘Well - maybe you guys should cool it!’ Harry said quietly.

She didn’t want to listen to them, she stood up and walked over to the counter, leaning on it and looking at her hands.It was like Draco was set upon giving her emotional whiplash at every opportunity and her tired body didn’t really feel like laying anymore. 

‘That’s not fair!’ she turned and said to them. She hit her hand on the counter, trying to hold back the emotion in her throat. Harry stood up and walked towards her, standing in from and looking down at her.

‘I’m sorry Hermione. You don’t have us there to protect you.’

‘Harry, I don’t need protecting!’ she glared at him. ‘I have proven that time and time again.’

‘I get it, but I don’t want you to get hurt. I don’t particularly like seeing you turn up in my kitchen, crying over some boy.’

‘I am right here you know!’ she heard Draco mutter.

‘What is that you want from me Harry - you want me to not date him? You want me to lie to everyone about my feelings? I don’t know if you are aware but being the Chosen One does not make you my boss.’

He sighed, his jaw grinding as she spoke to him. She knew that would get to him, not really wanting a fight with him, but wanting to make sure that he understood where she was coming from.

‘Do you want me to keep it a secret?’ she scoffed at him.

‘Yes, because that’s working out so well for him at the moment.’

Harry spun around, Hermione looking around him at Draco. He was not lounging, with his feet up on a chair and cautiously watching them.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Harry asked, trying to appear nonchalant.

‘Look - I get you don’t want the world to know about you and Weasley yet - let’s be honest the Prophet is going to love it - but how does it feel not being able to hold the hand of the person you care about?’ His face was genuine as he said it, non-judgemental and honest. Hermione didn’t think she had seen him this way with anyone else but her before.

‘You don’t know what youre talking about Malfoy!’ the aggression in his voice was clear. Draco rose from his chair, hands up and took a deep breath.

‘Potter - when I came here before you were holding hands at the breakfast table. You sneak off into each other’s rooms at night when you think no one is watching and I can see Granger’s face is not telling me otherwise.’

Hermione tried to put a hand on Harry’s arm, but he shook her off and stormed towards Draco, shoving his face into his.

‘You don’t know anything Malfoy!’ Draco tried to back off but Harry grabbed onto his shirt.

‘Harry!’ he said, the surprise in Draco using his name shocked him into letting him go and his shoulders slumped at Draco laid a hand on one. ‘All I know is that I don’t care who you love - to be honest most wizards don’t, they just want to know your business because you're Harry Potter. I do know that I am not scared to be with her if she is not scared to be with me.’

Hermione walked towards the two of them and put her hand on Harry’s shoulder.

‘I won’t tell anyone because I may be Draco Malfoy, but I am trying not to be a dick anymore,’ he chuckled.

The following morning, an owl came from Professor McGonagall with a pack of catch up work and permission to keep Draco in restbite at Grimmauld Place until the end of the following week. Hermione was grateful for the time to spend with them; she was still having to apply potions on Draco’s wound every day and although his strength was returning, she had found him at least three times sitting half way down the stairs breathing as though he was winded.

Dawlish had come round to see them three days after Draco woke up with a dispensation note for Harry and Ron to come back to work. Turns out the Minister had pulled a few strings to keep the incident off the record and the both of them went down as having the flu. Dawlish was not too pleased that the mission had been a bust and said that another Order meeting would be called within the next month. Hermione was anxious as he spoke to them.

‘From out surveillance it was clear that he was there alone,’ Dawlish told them. ‘But we encountered 10 DE’s and Greyback at full power.’

‘Is there a way that he was able to bypass his transformation you think?’ asked Ron, looking between Hermione and Dawlish.

‘It’s never been done,’ said Hermione. ‘At most the Wolfsbane potion only stops violent tendencies and allows for the human brain to remain in control while draining the energy. Unless they have developed something…’the fear of what she said sunk in and she went quiet. 

‘That and it seems that they were tipped off,’ Dawlish finished.

‘Tipped off?’ Draco asked, rising from the reading chair in the corner.

‘Who knew what we were up to?’ Hermione asked.

Once Dawlish had left, they discussed theories until Hermione was overcome with flashing images of Greyback and had to leave the room. Draco had found her and calmed her down but she could not fight the feeling that their absence from Hogwarts may have been noticed by someone.

Harry and Ron seemed to get used to having two more people in the house, Harry even stopped rolling his eyes when he caught sight of Draco doing something completely normal in a room he hadn’t expected; but Ron had been more difficult to convince. One night Hermione had overheard a very heated discussion between the two of them on the way to the bathroom.

‘What do you mean he knows?’ asked Ron, the fury in his voice evident.

‘He figured it out Ron - it’s not as if you are good at sneaking around,’ Harry lowered his tone ‘Or being very quiet.’ he laughed.

‘Don’t try and come on to me Potter. I don’t like him!’ 

‘You think I am his biggest fan? Hermione likes him, that’s what matters.’

So, by the end of the week, things were almost calm in the house and pleasantly so. The final night at Grimmauld Place found them all in the living room partaking in various activities. Harry and Ron were silently playing Wizards chess in a corner, Ron only occasionally shooting looks at Draco, who was reading a book called ‘Arithmancy and Runes: How the mummies cursed the Pyramids’. Hermione looked up from her own Runes translation when Ron checked Harry, stood up and kissed Harry on the top of the head.

‘Anyone want a butterbeer?’ he asked the room. Hermione smiled and shook her head.

‘I’ll take a firewhisky,’ Harry muttered.

‘I’ll join Potter if I’m allowed,’ Draco sneered from over the top of his book.

Hermione watched them as they moved around each other, watched as they drank in silence, watched as they read and felt calm. Hermione thought to herself about all the other times that she felt this way - too calm. Again, her mind went to her child of war brain, the idea that she should never be calm, that something was always waiting around the corner for her, for them.

  
  


_ The stars had come out above them, sparking the summer sky as the twinkling lights and music wafted over the garden of The Burrow. She stood on the edge of the dance floor looking out over the guests as they spun in each other's arms, talking and laughing. Hermione could only think of how beautiful the day had been, how special she felt to have been involved and how worried she was that the day had to end.  _

_ She could see Ron standing by the bar with his brother and new wife. They were laughing, drinks in hand. Maybe they were talking about the day, the way in which they danced or old family stories - but she knew he looked happy. _

_ She looked over to where Harry was, currently disguised as Barney Weasley, and thought about what this day meant to him. His seventeenth birthday and he was spending it surrounded by the people who loved him, the only ones that ever had. She knew his mind was racing, could see his fingers twitching and his head constantly turning to look over his shoulder. She wondered what he was looking for, who he was looking for. _

_ She walked over to him, although it took significantly longer than she wanted as she was stopped by several people. Viktor came over to speak to her, he blushed as he spoke and brushed her arm with the back of his hand. He flirted and she smiled, he mentioned her letters and she laughed. He asked her to dance but she refused, as much as she used to want him, she was not that girl any longer. Luna stopped her to have a particularly long conversation about how the garden gnomes were planning to bring a great present to the newlyweds at midnight. She smiled and made her excuses, finally getting to her friend. _

_ ‘Barney, can I have this dance?’ she asked him, interrupting a conversation he was having with two older people. He looked up at her, smiled and nodded, standing a little taller than she was used to. She slipped her hand into his and led him to the dance floor, no one stopped them. No one but the Weasley’s knew who he was, she saw Ron smile at them from the bar. _

_ ‘How had your birthday been?’ she asked him, leaning close to his ear so no one would overhear. _

_ ‘Oh, you know - uneventful,’ he laughed. It was strange to hear his voice coming out of the red head holding her. ‘How was the wedding for you?’ _

_ ‘Oh, you know - strangely calm.’ They moved slowly to the song, rocking against each other.  _

_ ‘Do you feel it Hermione?’ he asked her softly, he caught her eye and held her gaze. _

_ ‘What?’ she asked, a laugh dying in her throat as she took in his face. _

_ ‘The calm before the storm,’ he said, furrowing his eyebrows and she swallowed hard, her spine tingling as she thought about it. ‘This could be the last good day in a while,’ he laughed now. _

_ ‘Why say it like that? You don’t know what's coming!’ she warned him. Ron sometimes asked her if she thought Harry was keeping things from them, hiding information that Dumbledore gave him to spare them the pain. But everytime she looked at him, she knew it wasn’t the case. _

_ ‘I think we both know that’s not true,’ the sad smile was unfamiliar, but his eyes spoke a thousand words. _

_ ‘What do you think then?’ _

_ ‘I think that I want to cherish as much time with you, the both of you, before the shit hits the fan.’ _

_ Once the song was over, he left her to get a drink and she moved off towards the edge of the tent. Looking up at the stars she could see the constellation Draco just off to the left. She let out a hollow laugh as she thought about the person that she knew, knowing that he would never be able to experience what this felt like. The sky above her was clear and cool, as she turned her head upwards once more, she saw something moving - fast, moving quickly towards them. _

_ She swung around as it blasted through the roof of the tent, the voice of Kingsley Shaklebolt echoing through the party. The calm was over, the storm had arrived. She had to get Harry and Ron. They had to leave - now. _

  
  


‘Are you sure?’ she asked him, as he picked up his satchel from the corner of the room and threw it over his shoulder. ‘I can speak to her about letting you stay in here a few more days,’

He turned and rolled his eyes at her. ‘Granger, if you ask me one more time, I will make it so that you cannot go to lessons. And where will you be then?’ he asked her, a glint of humour crossing his face. She moved to him and grabbed his hand, pushing her finger to entwine with his.

‘I just don’t want you collapsing halfway down the stairs,’ she moaned.

‘Well, lucky I have you to hold me up,’he said, squeezing her hand as he dragged her from the common room.

Her heart charged as they walked through the corridors towards the Great Hall. She was thankful that there were not many students walking around this late in the morning, but knew it would mean that breakfast would be full. As she took step after step, Harry’s words flooded her, filling her with a dread so cold that not even Draco’s warm hand could stop. What if he had been right?

‘You are overthinking Granger,’ he muttered as they trudged down the staircase. He was not looking at her, but straight ahead at the door she was most worried about.

As they strode over, she could feel people start to whisper and stare at them. She noticed a few Ravenclaws closest to them point at their hands closed around each other. 

‘Hey,’ he said, she dragged her head out of the crazy that was going on in there to smile at him. ‘I am going over to the Slytherin table. Can I see you at lunch?’ he asked. She nodded and went to walk away, but he stopped her.

He did not smile at her, or wink or anything that he would do in private. She knew he did not want to break his cool Head Boy exterior for the school. But he lifted the hand that was still holding hers, brought it towards his face and lightly brushed his lips against her knuckles before nodding and walking off. Her knees were weak as she hurried to sit in between Neville and Ginny, grabbing a slice of toast and staring down at her plate, trying to ignore the sniggers around her.

‘So….’ said Ginny. ‘Malfoy woke up!’

* * *

Notes - Thanks everyone for continuing to spread the love in this difficult time and I hope that everyone is staying safe. Hope you enjoyed this chapter :)


	16. Chapter 16

‘It’s definitely not pink,’ she smiled, leaning against the doorframe. 

Draco turned to her from where he stood in the middle of the room, a small smile also gracing his face, along with a whole lot of paint. Hermione had suggested that he should use magic to decorate the room but, in his words, it didn’t make him ‘dad’ enough.

‘Do you like it?’ he asked her, his small faltered as he said it.

She peered around the room in wonder, he had done a marvelous job of the small room next to theirs. All four walls were painted in various shades of blue, light to dark as the wall rose until the ceiling where the paint was so dark it was almost black. And here, Draco had touched the top with constellations in silver and gold. 

‘It’s beautiful,’ she answered, stepping towards him and touching the spot on his cheek lines with blue.

‘Look up,’ he smiled, stepping behind her and wrapping his arms around her. Her head dropped back onto his shoulder as she looked, once again, at the stars that littered the room's sky. ‘What can you see?’

‘I see Sirius. I see Virgo and Gemini.’ she whispered. 

‘Anything else?’ he softly muttered.

‘Well it wouldn’t be you if I couldn’t see Draco up there...and...what’s that one?’ she asked, looking at one above the window.

‘That is the Scorpius constellation.’ She turned and looked at his smug face as he peered down at her. ‘I was thinking, we could put the crib under it,’ he continued. 

‘I love it,’ she breathed, leaning in and placing a soft kiss on his lips.

‘Speaking of Scorpius, he is asleep’ she sighed into his body. ‘I was going to take a bath.’

‘Let me join you…’he moaned, wiggling himself before her.

‘Draco...I’m not really…’ she pulled away from him.

‘Always a dirty mind Granger,’ he laughed. ‘You know you can’t wash that mane alone.’

He took her hand and led her through the bedroom, taking a peek into the moses basket he chuckled to himself before moving slowly over to her. 

‘Arms,’ he said, and she obeyed the instruction, lifting them above her head as he took the hem of her shirt and drew it over her head, throwing it into the washing bin. He tugged at her waistband, pulling her sweatpants to the floor and she stepped out of them. With a flick of his wand, the tub in the ensuite bathroom was filled with bubbles, essence of lavender wafting around the room. 

She lowered herself in, the water enveloping her. He was soon shifting in behind her, his naked body wrapped around hers like a glove. He washed her; took her hair in his hands as he massaged her scalp, washing out the stress that exhaustion. He rubbed her shoulders, working her sore muscles with his strong thumbs, pushing out the worries that had crept up on her all day. He worked his way down to her lower back and she groaned as he ground away at the knots along her spine, the pressure easing on her bones. She remembered the first time he had done this, after a particularly hard raid at the end of their final year, when she had finally beat the monster. She did not protest when he had lifted her to the bathroom and washed her. 

When he had finished his ministrations he pulled her back against him like he had the night before, only this time she did feel like she would burst at any minute. Within minutes she was more relaxed than she had been in days, and his fingers moved down her arms and found themselves softly circling round her lower abdomen. He began softly humming in her ears; she did not know the song, but it warmed her chest. Draco was not someone who often sung, or hummed and it was something he never did if she could see his face - it was purely to listen to. 

She loved the moments with him like this, when he was silent and strong for her, supporting her through the tough moments. Their time together had not always been like this, it had been highs and lows, anger and love, clashes and explosions balanced with gentle touches. Hermione knew that she would not have it any other way.

  
  


* * *

She walked into potions and set herself down, scrambling through her bag for her textbook and setting her cauldron up. She yawned as she did so, trying to shake that last class of the day feeling. It had been a late night, she blushed thinking about it; watching Draco parade around the common room in nothing but pyjama bottoms as she tried to complete homework had been great but incredibly distracting. She had nearly not finished her work for Astronomy and it hadn’t been the first time. 

In the three weeks that they had been back, she had more late nights than she cared to admit. She found that for someone with such good grades, Draco could be particularly lack-lustre about studying, particularly if he found her alone in the common room. Unfortunately Hermione had also found herself spending a lot of time hiding in the common room avoiding others. Since they had walked into the Great Hall, she and Draco had come under fire from the student body - which she knew was going to happen. But when Draco wasn’t walking with her, the comments, sneers and mutters had become a little bit much. Apparently, even a war hero was not spared their glares when they make a decision that they deem to be inappropriate. To her dismay, she had tried to bring it up with Draco, but he had brushed her off. Of course, Ginny had spared her the looks and Neville was trying to get on board; Luna not really noticing anything different, but Hermione now felt like an outsider within the castle.

She yawned again as the door opened and more people pushed into the classroom. Theo saw her and moved around the desks to drop into the chair next to her.

‘Late night again ey, Hermione!’ he elbowed her, raising his eyebrows.

‘No Theo,’ she sighed. ‘Just lots to get done.’

‘Like Draco?’ he laughed under his breath.

‘Come now Theodore,’ came a nasty voice behind them, and Pansy sauntered to the front of Hermione's desk. She looked up slowly as Pansy leaned over the desk. ‘Don’t be so crass.’

She gave Hermione a smile that made her feel cold all the way to her bones.

‘Pansy, how can I help you?’ she asked sweetly.

‘It’s not how you can help me, it’s how you can help Drakey.’

‘And how could I help  _ Draco? _ ’ she put the emphasis on the last work, inwardly smiling at the way it made Pansy’s lip twitch. She dropped even lower, to whisper in her ear.

‘His family reputation is bad enough at the moment as it it - without fucking a mudblood.’ she almost spat at her, drawing back up and staring her in the eye. Hermione felt her stomach drop at her word, but did not want Pansy to know how she felt.

‘Well thank you Pansy, I will take it under consideration.’

‘And what will you take under consideration Miss Granger?’ Draco asked, as he dropped down on the other side of her. 

Before she could say anything, Pansy sat on the desk in front of him. ‘Drakey, I was wondering if you could help me later with my homework.’

‘No Pansy,’ he said pushing her off. She humped at him. ‘You have patrol later. How are you?’ he turned to her, his face emotionless - he always was around others. She smiled at him, brushing off what Pansy had said. 

But she seemed to find them in every class they had together, every moment they might have been able to talk; Pansy was there. And when Draco was gone, Pansy remained a fixed presence. She would look down her nose at her, fiddle with jewellery that she instinctively knew had come from Draco and make snide comments at any opportunity. It wasn’t as if Hermione was unused to taunting from Slytherins, her whole school life had been a balance of joy with the boys and hatred from the green house. Ron had always maintained that they were jealous of her, and of course Hermione knew that this was no exception. She just found it infinitely harder to accept when her own hormones and emotions had decided to become involved. Hermione knew that she could face Pansy, knew that she was a better witch, but something started to eat at her as the days drew on. What if she was right about Draco and his family name?

‘Blaise,’ she approached him in the library one day. ‘Can I ask you something?’

He was sitting at one of the many wooden desks in a quiet corner of the Transfiguration section, feet lazily hanging on a chair, surrounded by textbooks and parchment. She knew that if Theo was alone, she would probably find him here, she knew his father had a heavy interest in his grades and the ways in which he studied. He looked over his parchment at her, rolled his eyes and settled his feet back on the floor, searching her.

‘Already coming to me for relationship advice? Is he that bad?’ he chuckled.

‘No - it’s just something that….that I wanted to know about...Malfoy’ He did not say anything, just looked at her inquiringly. ‘What’s happened to his family name?

Blaise snorted ‘His family name Granger? You mean - since his father was convicted as a Death Eater and sent to prison? Or - since Draco defected and became some weird sort of War Hero?’

‘Well…’

‘Hermione - I don’t know why you want to know but...I am not going to lie to you. In some circles - his name is mud, Draco did something that they can never forgive but….I don’t think they are the circles you really care about. To the rest of the world, Draco will always be Lucius’ son and nothing is going to change that - not even the great Harry Potter.’’

‘How does Draco see it?’

‘Draco doesn’t give a shit!’ he laughed. ‘At least, he hasn’t expressed anything to me. But, you know him,’ he said lifting his eyebrows, ‘Draco can be very private. Now if you don’t mind, I have homework to finish.’

She walked through the halls feeling, if anything, mpre confused about what to think. Draco was now stuck between the two worlds, the old; thinking him a traitor, and the new; who didn’t trust him as far as they could throw him. Hermione had never been in that situation before and couldn’t think of how she would place herself, or even feel. Blaise didn’t really have a way with words, but she guessed what he had said was true. Why would she care if the Malfoy name was disliked among Purebloods? Yes, the war was fresh in everyone’s minds but there had already been a rush to the consensus that blood status wasn’t important anymore. However, the mores he dwelled it on, the more she wondered if you could change an ideal that you had been raised with. She had always been told that all humans and creatures were created equal, she wouldn’t be able to see a different side of that coin - even if she did start to believe its foundations were cracked. What if Draco hadn’t changed as much as they all thought?

‘So you’ve changed?’ came a shrill whisper down an empty corridor that she passed. She recognised the voice.

‘So what if I have?’ came the drawling voice of a person she recognised immediately. She did not want to intrude on their conversation, but before she knew it her feet had carried her down the corridor and she saw the both of them standing at the end. Draco was lazily standing against a wall, while Pansy stood in front of him - too close for Hermione’s liking.

‘This coming from the boy who wished her dead multiple times,’ she said, crossing her arms.

‘I did not wish her dead…’

‘ _...and that Granger will be the first....I hope the Dark Lord targets Granger...Granger is better off dead…’ _

_ ‘... _ alright, that’s enough. It doesn’t matter what I said in the past.’ he was looking at his feet, she knew he was ashamed.

‘If this is about you trying to save your skin, give yourself a better name amongst the scum of the wizarding world, there are other ways you could do it.’

‘Why are you so set on this Parkinson?’ he asked her, sneering through heavy lidded eyes. ‘The war is over, the blood feud is all but over...we are over.’

‘Draco,’ Pansy said softly, pushing her body against him and Hermione’s face flushed with jealousy. ‘This is just obsession - you are lusting after something you have never been allowed before. She is nothing but...a passing fancy.’

Draco turned his face away from hers, but did not push her away like Hermione expected.

‘Drake,’ she said in an even lower tone, Hermione’s blood was set to boil. ‘If this is about...your mark...she will never be able to accept that of you. I have seen it before and - it doesn’t bother me at all. It just shows me how brave you can be.

At this, his eyes snapped back to her and he slowly put his hand on Pansy’s chest and pushed her away, his arm was shaking as he did so. He backed her into the opposite wall and drew his face close to hers. For a horrific moment, Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat as she thought he would kiss her.

‘Pans - ‘ his voice had changed and it scared her to hear it. ‘I don’t think I can say this to you any more times than I already have - she is not a passing fancy. I am not obsessed with her.’

‘But your mark…’

‘Is mine to deal with! It doesn’t matter to me if she accepts it or not - I don’t. I lo...like her.’ He dropped his arm and backed away. This time it was Pansy who looked down. Hermione had never seen her face like it, broken from the hard features she normally wore. It was soft, her lips parted as she breathed in the silence between the two of them.

‘You...you never said that about me.’ she almost whispered it, and Hermione saw Draco break his resolve to reach out a hand.

‘Pans - ‘ he said, but she pushed it away and scoffed at him.

‘Don’t touch me,’ her voice jumped back to unbreakable. ‘This was your last chance Draco. I can’t stop anything that happens now.’

‘What do you mean?’ he said as she walked away from him. ‘Pansy - what’s happening?’ he shouted down the corridor to her, his voice shaking.

  
  


She sat in the empty common room, her head reeling over everything she had heard. She was annoyed that Pansy couldn’t leave her well enough alone, frustrated that she couldn’t seem to work out Draco’s feelings, angry that Pansy and Draco had been that close. She was ready to scream at him, all the things she wanted to say to him going around her head like a carousel. But when he walked in and dropped his bag, the breath was taken from her - her gusto melted as he turned his head and smiled at her. A genuine smile - one that was difficult to pull from him, and she didn’t want to shout anymore.

Before he could speak, she had almost ran to him and attacked him, wrapping her heads around his neck and moving her lips against his. He let out a ‘mfhm’ as she did so, but he responded, tucking his hands under her and lifting her as she wrapped her legs around him. She had so much to say, but put all the passion she had into the effort of kissing him, her tongue diving into his mouth with such force that he groaned. Turning them, she felt her back slam into one of the bookcases as he put her there to help support her against him, using the wall to push himself further against her, breaking the kiss and staring into her eyes, his breathing rapid, his eyes blown wide.

‘What’s this for?’ he asked breathily.

But she did not answer, just dipped her head to plant kisses down his neck and behind his ear, nipping at the pale skin and taking his earlobe in her mouth. She moved further down, fumbling with his tie and his buttons as she did so. When his collar bone was exposed, she dragged her tongue against the moan and smiled as he rolled his, groaning as he did so. His hand found their way into her hair and pulled her back to catch her in another searing kiss. She pushed her hips against him, feeling his already hard erection pressing into her thigh as she did so, she bit her own lip as he moved to undo her shirt button. She thrust forwards again and he stilled all movements, pulling back and looking at her with furrowed brows.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her softly.

‘What do you mean?’ she asked quickly. ‘Nothing’s wrong, I thought you wanted to…’

Suddenly, he put her down and walked away, adjusting his trousers as he went. If Hermione wasn’t so confused about why he had put her down she would have smiled at the reaction she got from him in that department. She noticed that her thighs, which had not three seconds ago been warm and filled with pressure, were now cold and throbbin as the loss of his contact. He swung around to observe her from across the room, his hand moving to wipe his swollen lips.

‘No...something is wrong.’ he stated. ‘You are particularly needy this evening.’

‘Can’t I just want to...you know…’ she looked around, trying not to meet his eye, he chuckled and sighed.

‘Blaise said you came to see him.’ he said, settling his stance on one hip.’Said you were - concerned about me.’

‘Right…’Hermione stuttered.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked her. Hermione could feel the pressure building between them, she wished she could just be kissing him right now - she wished he was undressing her. But instead he was stood what felt like miles away as the cold shiver of doubt ran through her. She looked away from him, and he signed, obviously frustrated with her.

‘I am always concerned about you. It's my j…’

‘Don’t make me your job!’ he cried, shaking his head. ‘I’m not Potter! What did you want to know that you were so desperate you couldn’t ask me?’

‘I wanted to know about your world!’ she said in a small voice. She wanted him to open up to her, but knew that he would not.

‘My world?’ his voice was filled with confusion, and his eyes matched as she turned to look at him.

‘Purebloods.’ She watched as his face fell, he blinked at her rapidly. 

‘What about them?’ there was danger on the edge of his voice, like the barrier of a fire.

‘I wanted to know what it was like now - for you...and your mother.’ she said, by talking about his mother she wanted him to back down. But it turned out he would not as he seemed to sense something was missing, something was on the edge of her tongue.

‘What it’s like now? You mean now that we aren’t Death Eaters?’ he cried at her.

‘No!’ she cried.

‘What then? His eyes were narrow and closed to her. She swallowed, trying to grab at the words in her brain, not wanting to spill the question that was on the edge of her teeth. ‘What Hermione?’ he cried at her.

‘Why do you not care that I am a mudblood anymore?’

The question was out there, floating between them like a dementor, sucking any joy that they had previously had. His pupils were wild as he heard it, his brain processing it, his face creasing in disbelief in front of her.

‘What?’ he shouted at her, she winced at the sound. ‘Why would you ask that?

‘I just need to know,’ she shouted back.

‘It doesn’t matter because I am not a monster anymore,’ he spat through gritted teeth. Him using the word monster struck her, but not enough to stop what had quickly become a fight. He was leaning towards her like he was ready to duel her at any moment.

‘What about everyone else? Have you just forgotten everything you were raised to believe?’ she asked, the suspicion that had built over the last few weeks spilling to the carpet under her. Draco stilled where he stood, his face falling into something she could only describe an anguish, a wave of guilt washed over her - what had she done?

‘So the question you are really asking me, Hermione, is if I have really changed!’ he muttered towards her. She did not answer, just stared at him. He closed his eyes and shook his head, a bitter smile pressed upon his lips. ‘Where is this coming from? He whispered.

‘People...they have been saying....I just wanted to…’ she was grabbing, clutching at straws. She had to make this right.

‘Which people Granger?’ his voice was dangerously low as he opened his eyes.

She took a breath. ‘Pansy!’.

‘Pansy!’ he repeated. ‘Pansy!’ he laughed hollowly, looking up to the ceiling and back again. She could see that his eyes were glassy, filled with emotion. He cleared his throat and turned his back, heading towards his dormitory.

‘Draco…’ she called after him. He turned back to her, his face sad and he looked small as he stood there.

‘Why would you listen to her?’ he asked softly.

‘I guess I just got caught up.’ she admitted. ‘Sometimes I don’t know what to believe.’ 

‘Hermione, will there ever be a moment that you won’t question this?’ he gestured between them, but his bitter smile came back when he did not answer him, just flickered her eyes away to stare at the window. He sighed and was gone.

  
  


She went down to dinner without him, hadn’t even knocked on his door to ask him if he wanted anything. It wasn’t like she didn’t want to see him, she was too ashamed to see the hatred in his eyes aimed at her. After he had left, Hermione had thought about what he had said and the guilt washed over her. Was she ever not going to question their relationship? She wanted to explain it to him, to make him understand that it can be difficult to accept something you have never understood, to change your mind on someone that had hurt you so much - but she guessed that he felt the same way. Maybe he was just as confused as she was.

Stepping into the Great Hall, she saw Ginny sitting around half way down tucking into a variety of pie. She was surprised, however, to see Blaise sitting next to her. She walked over and sat down opposite them, filling her own plate with steak and kidney pie and a few potatoes.

‘Not hungry Granger?’ Blaise asked as he looked over her almost empty plate.

‘What are you doing over here Blaise?’ she asked, not feeling particularly welcoming after he had spoken to Draco about their conversation. She could see why he had done it, Draco was his best friend, and she knew that both Harry and Ron would have done the same thing. 

‘He’s come over to ask me about our next patrol,’ Ginny answered, not meeting her eye as she did so. ‘And is now having a thrilling conversation about how he thinks the food at our table is better than his.’ 

Blaise chuckled as he tucked into his plate. Hermione looked between the two of them with furrowed brows. It seemed like the most unlikely pair of people to now spend so much time together, but Hermione was grateful. It meant that she would see more of Ginny that she currently does and she wanted her friend to be happy. She knew how much she loved Harry before; Ginny had told her how much she pined for him while he was away last year, but when everything came to a head and they broke up, she was heartbroken. She obviously hadn’t said anything to Harry, it would have killed him and Hermione knew he would have done something stupid to make sure she was happy. If Ginny had Blaise, the news that Harry was in love with her brother would hopefully be eased.

‘It is better,’ he scoffed at them. ‘This pie crust is perfect - ours is always soggy.’

‘It’s true,’ said Theo as he sat next to Hermione.

‘What do you want?’ Ginny asked him, looking between the two Slytherins like they were causing a bad spell.

‘Blaise is here!’ Theo complained.

‘Blaise was uninvited,’ Hermione confirmed, passing him the green beans that he signalled for.

‘Well so am I!’ he laughed. ‘The only person over there that I know is Parkinson! To be honest I do not care for her current stance of mopey ex-girlfriend. Where’s Draco?’ he looked at her.

Hermione shrugged, turning her attention back to her plate, pushing the food around with her fork. She had wanted to eat, it was the only reason she had left the head’s common room, but now her stomach felt like lead as they chatted around her. Her eyes were fixed on the pumpkin juice in front of her; it had been poured for her already when she sat down, it kept rippling at Theo slammed his fist down on the table as he and Blaise had a very enthusiastic conversation about the Ravenclaw/Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

‘What are you doing over here?’ her head snapped up to see him standing behind Ginny, staring at Theo and Blaise like they had grown extra heads.

‘Better food!’ Ginny sighed, clearly bored or having to tell everyone that asked.

‘Yeah…’ Theo tried to talk with his mouth full of food.

He was obviously refusing to look at her, although she liked how it seemed to be very difficult for him. His eyebrows were twitching and the breath through his nose was sharp and slow.

‘Well - are you coming back over?’ he asked, clearly irritated.

‘What got your knickers in a twist Draco?’ Blaise asked, moving his eyes up and the two of them appeared to be having a silent conversation about her in front of everyone.

She grabbed the juice in front of her to occupy herself, but it was quickly removed from her hand by Theo. She looked at him in annoyance as he smiled and took a sip from it.

‘Thanks, I am too lazy to…’ he was still smiling but had stopped mid sentence, his eyes suddenly glazed over.

‘What?’ Hermione asked him, playing along with him as she thought he was trying to lighten the odd mood that had settled around the table.

But she watched as his face, very slowly, fell from his wicked, youthful grin to that of confusion. He seemed to be staring straight through her. She turned, but there was nothing there, turning back, his expression was now scarily blank.

‘Theo?’ she asked, this time her voice was harsh, as if she were annoyed at him for whatever he was doing. But she could not escape the cold chill that ran up her spine as she watched him. She looked to the others, who had not seemed to notice him as they were in their own conversation about the quality of food.

‘Hermione.’ Theo said, almost whispered. His voice was hollow and terrifying and she watched in horrow as his eyes started to turn black.

‘Theo!’ she shouted, grabbing his on the arms as he started to convulse where he sat, knocking the juice he had stolen from her over which foamed at the contact of the wood and turned the same sickening shade of black that now consumed his usually hazel eyes.

‘What’s going on?’ Draco screamed as he jumped over the table to hold him as well. ‘Theo...mate...can you hear me?’ 

‘Help! Someone help!’ Blaise screamed as he stood up and Hermione saw Professor McGonagall already running from the top table to meet them.

It all happened in a whirlwind as she quickly observed him and summoned a stretcher to carry him to Madam Pomphrey. Hermione could see the rest of the hall in a panic as those closest to them had spread off to tell everyone who couldn’t see what was happening. As Draco hauled Theo onto the stretcher, he went limp and Hermione could see Draco shaking as he looked down at his friend.

‘Excuse me, all of you,’ Professor McGonagall shouted as she floated him away from them. 

She felt someone grab her hand and looked around to see Draco staring at her, a new type of fear plastered on his previously indifferent face.

  
  


_ She was running! She knew it wasn’t allowed in the halls of Hogwarts but this had to be an exception. In fact, there had been many exceptions to this rule she had taken throughout her years at the institution. She had counted that running away from Mr Filch in the middle of night was one of them. Another being her urgency to tell Harry and Ron about the basilisk before she had seen it herself. Running to save Sirius was another pretty serious one that she knew took her above the rule, and if any teacher stopped her today, she knew her excuse was valid. _

_ She had been sitting in the Gryffindor tower late that evening waiting for Harry and Ron to get back, occupying herself with some incantations they were learning in Ancient Runes, when Neville had run up to her. He had looked pale and sweaty as he said three words that covered her in ice.  _

_ ‘Ron. Hospital Wing!’ _

_ She had leapt from her seat and tore out of the room before he had explained any more. This had happened to her many times, the information received from a source that one of them had been taken to the hospital wing, and she always went to see them. Usually they had got into a bad scape in Quidditch - but this felt entirely different. It was too late for them to be playing and they had been taking more risks lately. She knew that Harry had a particularly bad habit of leading Ron into things that he could not really handle. _

_ As she pushed open the doors, she saw them all bundled around a bed at the far corner of the room. She approached cautiously, not wanting to show them how scared she had been, but upon seeing Ron, she too must have looked as pale and sweaty as Neville. He was lying in the bed, out cold; even his freckles were pale. His hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and his breathing was shallow. She heard Professor Dumbledore stop talking as she drew near, but she was looking at Harry, whose face was doused in concern. _

_ ‘What happened?’ she asked him softly. _

_ ‘He was poisoned Miss Granger,’ came the Headmaster’s voice. _

_ ‘Poisoned? Who would want to poison Ron?’ _

_ ‘Ah - we are under the impression that it was a mistake. The poison in question had actually been meant for - who had you intended to give the bottle to Horace?’ _

_ It was then that Hermione noticed the potions master, stood nervously behind the group gathered around the red-head’s bed.  _

_ ‘You headmaster,’ he said quietly. _

_ Hermione sat gently on the side of the bed as Ginny moved out of her way and took Ron’s hand in hers. It was clammy in her own warm one and she brushed her thumb gently across his calloused knuckles. But he did not stir.  _

_ ‘He had been slipped a love potion, Hermione,’ Harry sighed as he sunk into the chair on the other side of the bed. _

_ ‘Yes, Mr Potter took him to Professor Slughorn for an antidote,’ the headmaster confirmed. _

_ She looked at him next to her, laid out on the bed and she thought how he looked so helpless. There were not many times in her time with either of the boys that Hermione had thought that. Both Harry and Ron always seemed larger than life, taking on the world before them, but this had stopped him in his tracks. It showed her how fragile they all were, how their task ahead now seemed even more dangerous than it had before. _

  
  


‘It was my drink!’ she whispered into the dark.

‘What?’ he whispered back.

They had sat with Theo for a few hours before Madam Pomphrey had ushered them out of the room. They hadn’t been able to work out which poison filled Theo’s veins, but a few potions had settled his symptoms and a bezoar had been used for good measure. Blaise and Ginny headed for their own common rooms, but Draco and her had walked silently side by side to the Head’s common room. She had wanted to tell him straight away about the juice but the silence deafening as they walked, the only noise being their heavy footfalls. 

When they had reached the common room, she watched as he headed straight up his own stairs in silence and so she went and got changed. The whole day had been eventful with Draco and Pansy’s conversation and their argument. But it had been washed away by Theo and her worry for him. She heard a noise behind her and saw him standing there in his sweatpants and an old Quidditch t-shirt, he looked very ordinary and unkempt, Hermione thought to herself. 

Without speaking, he sighed and strode over to her bed, climbing in and leaving room for her. She got it, he must be feeling pretty awful about his best friend and she knew that she would need comforting it if it was Harry or Ron. She had turned the light off and climbed in next to him, feeling him wrap his arms around her and lay his hand flat on her stomach. They had laid like this for a while until Hermione had spoken to him.

‘It was my juice,’ she repeated, turning in his arms to face him. Her eyes had steadily adjusted so that she could just about see the lines of his taut features. ‘Theo drank from my cup.’

‘I know,’ he said, moving his hand up to caress her cheek.

‘I could have been…’

‘I know,’ he whispered again, pulling her into his chest and holding her.

* * *

Notes: A new mystery to solve - can't have them all falling in love with nothing else to occupy their time. I know Hermione seems a little unsure and personally I think her character is better than that, but she is fragile at the moment! Thank so much for everyone's love!


	17. Chapter 17

_ ‘In recent years there has been much deliberation about the accuracy of translations made during the pre-Agarthian movement due to the changes in the runes timetable and the notation of symbolic elements. It has then been widely discussed among those in the community that a more efficient way of translating old runes should be made and a comparison of post and pre-Agarthian literature be made. In recent years, a petition has been put forward to the Department of Magical Language and Translations for that to take effect. As of yet, no mention has come from…’ _

She sighed as she heard a small cry echoing from downstairs and she tore her eyes away from her book to listen carefully. Her skin was covered in goosebumps listening to the sound from his small lungs and could almost see his little body tense, his mouth open in despair. But as soon as it had started, she heard him quieten down and her body relaxed as she looked back down to her work, tapping her quill as she read over the assignment sheet. 

‘ _ As of yet, no mention has come from the Ministry of Magic as to whether they are taking this under review.  _

_ For now, the study and translation of Ancient Runes will remain the same as it has to the past 200 years. Although this may seem a loss for the Runeslation community, there are several notable witches and wizards who have prescribed the traditional translation method and, by these means have granted us with such translations as… _

Again, the little noise could be heard. She looked up and out of the window, trying to take her mind off it, but found it increasingly difficult. She had promised Draco that she would let him handle it if the baby fussed; he was fed and so she would not be needed. He was desperate to prove himself, as he had told her this morning. She had tried to reason with him, making it clear that there was no win and lose, just love - but he was adamant and pushed her off upstairs to do the work that he knew she was itching to read over. When the cry did not stop as before, she rose carefully from her desk and snuck out the hallway. The cry was louder here and did not seem anywhere nearer to settling. As she stood, she could hear his voice.

‘Please baby….everything is okay…’ his voice was soft as he tried to soothe him, a faint smile played across her lips.

‘Shhh, shhhh, what all this huh?’

She padded softly down the stairs to see them, not really wanting to disturb him, but worried that he was having a tough time. Just like her, failure was not something that Draco did very well and she had seen many an ugly loss when he played chess with Ron. In fact, she had even one seen him throw a book at Blaise for losing a game of gobstones and knew better than to ever challenge him to anything.

As she reached the bottom of the stairs the sight of them together took her breath away. It always did and today, even with the tears, was no exception. Draco had Scorpius resting over his shoulder, the two shocks of violent blonde hair pressed against one another as if in combat. Scorpius’ face was turned towards Draco’s neck, nuzzling him as he whined and cried. His small arms were tense as his chubby hands rounded into fists from the effort of his continued emotions. Draco was pacing around the room, gently bouncing as he went attempting to get the baby to soothe, his eyes closed as if in prayer, a slight blush present across his forehead. ‘Oh baby...please...shh...shh…’ he repeated as a mantra to his small son, one hand stroking his back in small circles.

As if he felt her presence, he stopped and turned to face her, eyes filled with panic.

‘I’m sorry love- I don’t know what to do!’ he almost cried at her. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you when you were working.’

She moved towards the two of them, the smile still etched on her face as she wanted to reassure him of the job he was doing.

‘It’s okay Draco, you don’t have to know what to do!’ she said, reaching forward and placing her hand at the nape of his neck, stroking the small hairs there in an effort to calm him down. ‘Babies cry.’

‘But he’s fed, and dry and…’

‘Try changing positions.’ she whispered and watched as he carefully - too carefully - moved him down to lay in arms. She chuckled a little, no matter how much she had told him this, babies didn’t have to be handled like they were his mother’s finest china.

In almost an instant, Scorpius stopped crying and nestled into his father’s chest. Hermione looked at Draco as his whole body relaxed at the sight of the silent and sleeping infant. He leant forward and placed a kiss on the boy's forehead, smiling as he watched the baby grizzle slightly.

‘Why didn’t I know that?’ he asked her in a small voice.

Hermione pushed herself onto her tiptoes to place a kiss on his cheek , feeling the slight stubble that had grown over the past few days. ‘You have to learn things first, you know that. Now next time, you will know what to try.’

She watched as he slowly sat down in a chair and resumed his avid staring at Scorpius. She liked to see him like this, full of love and worry and not really knowing what to do. Draco had always been confident and cool, never wanting to show the outside world what his pitfalls were. It was only a small handful of people that had seen him vulnerable and she knew that she was the only one that Draco was proud to admit. He had mentioned, after Hermione had told him about the baby, that he didn’t think he would make a good father - that something inside him was broken. When he had fallen asleep, she had cried a little thinking about it.

The one thing that Draco had decided, not long into their relationship, was that he did not want to keep things from Hermione. He wanted her to know everything that had happened to him and this had meant that there were some nights where he would talk for hours, his face haunted by the ghosts of his past as he re-lived his youth. This image still stung Hermione if she thought about it for too long. He was true to his word - telling her everything that came to his mind whether he knew it would upset her or not. He was determined to not be a secret keeper anymore. 

She knew he felt this way because of Lucius and the impossible standards that he was set as a child. It had meant that he went out of his way to hurt the people beneath him, but also excessively pushed himself to please the ones above him. She had seen him spiral before, pleasing and pushing for long enough that his own self got lost in the process. That was what had almost killed him. But looking at him now; that Draco left behind somewhere years ago, she could only see hope and love.

  
  


* * *

She awoke to the feeling of him pressed tightly against her, placing feather light kisses across her shoulder, his hand trailing down her stomach. She sighed into him, feeling him roll his hips towards her, his hardness already present.

‘Something you want Mr Malfoy,’ she moaned, her voice thick with sleep as she said it, yawning and stretching against him as his hand fluttered further south. 

He responded by pulling sharply on her hip, turning her so that he had full access to her mouth, placing his own on hers in a bruising kiss. Pulling her under him, he buried his face in her neck, sucking at a spot just below her ear causing a shiver to run through her. 

‘Draco,’ she whispered and he pulled back, his eyes blown and dark searching for the reason she had stopped him.

She had been woken up the same way every morning since Theo had landed in the hospital wing and every morning she had been able to escape his kiss for long enough to remind him that they would be late for class. Hermione was particularly worried about this as he had not really been in a talkative mood since the incident and this had been the only way he had paid any attention to her.

‘You can’t talk me out of it this morning Granger,’ he mumbled, nuzzling into her hair. ‘It’s Saturday.’

She wanted to protest; to speak to him about what was on his mind, but she found herself distracted as he sucked on that spot on her neck again, and his fingers had made their way under her t-shirt and were softly caressing the skin on her breast. Within moments, she was panting under him as he slipped himself between her thighs and had lifted her shirt, dragging his tongue across her nipple. She could see his shoulder blades rising against the pearly skin on his back as he spotted kisses across her stomach before latching onto her other nipple, his hands gripping onto her hips and sliding over the cheeks of her arse.

She ground against him, moaning as he swept his tongue over her like she was some delicious ice cream, catching her under him as she melted at his touch. His gaze had her hot and bothered, her body humming as his hands found their way into her underwear. As he sunk his fingers into her, he groaned into her mouth, catching her bottom lip in between his teeth. Hermione buried her fingers into his shoulder as she felt him sweep his thumb over her clit.

‘I will never get tired of seeing you like this,’ he breathed in her ear as she arched her back into his chest. ‘Wanton and,’ he drove his eyes down her, ‘...perfect.’

His fingers were working her like an instrument and she could feel herself so close to the edge as she writhed under him, but everytime she was right on the edge he would stop. At first, she thought it had been an accident, but he repeated it until she was nearly screaming under him. He suddenly pulled his hand away and Hermione cried at the loss of the beautiful friction, sliding himself out of his bottoms. 

‘Do you want something?’ he murmured against her nipple as she brought her hand down to grab his wrist.

‘Draco…’ she panted, her nails lightly digging into his arm.

‘Use your words Granger,’ he growled at her as he moved up her body, his fingers hooking in her underwear and tugging them to her ankles.

Hermione kicked them off and, pushing on his shoulder and flipping them until she straddled him. Without thinking, she angled herself and sunk down onto his length, biting her lip so hard she swore she nearly drew blood. 

‘Hermione...fuck…’ he growled as he thrust up to meet her.

Feeling him was sensational, the way her body adjusted to him, the way his hands travelled up her body to grip onto her as if only she could steady him. The way in which he met her thrusts as she rode him was more overwhelming that she could have ever thought. Draco sat up, his hands clawing at her back and twisting in her bushy hair as he brought her mouth down to his lips, swallowing the barrage of moans that spilled from her tongue.

‘Draco - I’m so close,’ she gasped, rocking her hips to the edge of abandonment. 

She felt his breath in her ear, the warm breeze prickling her skin as he nuzzled her neck. 

‘Come for me!’ he hissed in her ear. His voice, combined with the bruising pace she had set tipped her over, as she exploded around him, trembling in his arms. She felt his grip wrap tighter as he rode out her climax, lightly biting on her shoulder as he too followed, moaning her name in his ear.

For several minutes after her orgasm had subsided, they sat together breathing and staring at each other. Her chest was heaving as he lightly ran his fingers up and down her spine, eliciting goosebumps wherever he touched. He slowly laid them down, soothing her swollen lips with a gentle kiss. 

He moved away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, sighing as he looked at the floor.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked softly, he turned his head and gave her a small smile.

‘Nothing.’

She drew herself close to him, placing her legs either side of his and pressing her body against his back. He stiffened against her, his breath hitching in his throat as he felt her.

‘Are you sure? You have been very quiet since…well...Theo.’ she trailed off at the end, not really wanting to upset him. He rose and turned, planting a kiss on her forehead.

‘I promise, it’s nothing,’ he said, not meeting her eye. ‘I am going to take a shower and then head to Quidditch Practise.’ He walked towards the bathroom, grabbing a towel as he went.

‘Will I see you later?’ she asked his back as he walked away.

‘Maybe,’ he smirked at her, closing the bathroom door and then she heard the shower turn on.

Hermione groaned and threw herself back on the bed in frustration, he could be incredibly difficult to talk to. After their last argument, she had apologised and he had said that she was forgiven but she did not believe him just yet. He had been distant and distracted, brooding silently over his work in lessons and after hours, spending a lot of time flying and had been spending all his free time over Theo’s bed on watch, until he was moved.

Two days ago, Professor McGonagall had called them all to her office to discuss the use of poison on Theo and what they had seen. Hermione had told her everything she knew and made sure to explain that the drink had been her’s. Ginny had told the Headmistresses that the juice had already been poured when she got there and hadn’t thought anything of it. Draco had sat almost silent for the entire meeting only asking if Theo would recover. It was a shock when they were informed that Theo had been moved to St Mungo’s to further testing - that seemed to have driven Draco even further away from her.

Hermione heard a knock on the bedroom window and looked to see a small, flighty owl fluttering behind the glass. She pulled a robe around her and opened the window, the early spring breeze filling the air around her. The small owl was Pigwigdeon, Ron’s owl and seemed to be carrying a small letter for her. She grabbed it, instantly recognising Harry’s loopy scrawl on the envelope and knew it was his reply to her previous letter.

_ Dear Hermione _

_ I hope you are okay? How is Nott doing? We were both so worried when Ginny sent her letter, but getting yours made us feel much better. I hope you were not too affected by what has happened, I know how scary it can be when that happens in front of you. _

_ I have looked into the incident, as you asked, but no one at the Auror office seems bothered with school poisoning. I heard that Nott has been transferred to Mungos - that can’t really be a good sign. Ron said he will try and see what he can bribe out of his contact at the hospital. He says he knows you will not approve but that you are not the boss of him (that’s me now haha). _

_ I am approaching Dawlish today because I agree with you - it does seem a little suspicious after what happened at the castle. What does Malfoy have to say on the issue? _

_ Please keep safe and let us know as soon as anything else happens. _

_ Lots of Love _

_ Harry - and Ron xx _

Hermione was pleased that Harry agreed with her, normally she was not the suspicious type - but it seemed linked in her mind. But the question about Draco would be difficult to reply to as he had not been able to tell her. She had tried talking to him about it that night when she had told him it was her juice, but he had just held her and said he didn’t want to talk about it anymore. 

  
  


By lunch time, she had sat in the library for hours with Ginny pouring over the homework and trying to do some poison research. 

‘Okay - enough!’ Ginny sighed, placing her quill on the table next to her. Hermione looked at her in confusion.

‘What?’ she asked.

‘That is the fifth time you have looked at the door in the last hour. If you want to speak to him, go and find him.’ she said, gesturing to the library door that Hermione had not realised she was staring at. 

‘I’m sorry! I want to be here and help you but...'

‘Is this about Theo?’ she asked.

‘Yes...and no. Draco won’t talk about it - I have tried but he just...he’s been so funny in the last week.’

‘Does Malfoy usually discuss his feelings?’ Ginny asked, looking doubtful.

‘Well...no...not exactly. I just thought this was important and that we should…’

‘Hermione - can I ask you something?’ she said, looking very serious. Hermione nodded.

‘Since you returned from Grimmauld - have you actually talked about anything or just had a lot of sex.’

‘Ginny!’ Hermione blushed at her brazen tactics.

‘Well have you?’ she asked.

‘No!’ she answered, looking sheepish. 

‘Is this a big part of the deal for you? Being honest with each other?’

Hermione thought about it. Of all the men that she knew and was close with; her father, Harry, Ron, it was always like there were no secrets between them. They always had an open door policy and even if something was difficult that they couldn’t talk about on her schedule, she knew they would eventually open up to her. Draco was different; she hadn’t known him for as long and so didn’t know if the eventually would ever come.

‘It is a big deal,’ she confirmed quietly.

‘Then you know you have to talk to him about this!’ she finished, picking up her quill turning back to the work spread in front of her. ‘You know Hermione - for someone who gave me such great relationship advice - you really need to take some of your own medicine.

Hermione chuckled as she walked away, making her way through the school. Draco had said that he was going to Quidditch practise so she thought to head there first. When she got to the door, she could already see his shocking blonde hair by the tree by the lake - he did not have his broom with him.

She approached him cautiously, not wanting to invade his privacy, but he sat leaning against the tree, staring out across the water - deep in thought. She had seen him this way before, on his second visit to shell cottage before they planned their Gringotts mission.

  
  


_ She had been sitting on the porch of shell cottage for over an hour, wrapped up in a blanket against the chilled sea air, and watching him, her brows furrowed. There had been a meeting, an unusually early one, where Lupin had come to know about their next step. Malfoy had managed to get away from the Manor for the day on the insistence that his mother had sent him on an errand - Hermione could see the fear in his eyes as she stood on the edge of the room, he kept looking at the door as if Voldemort would burst in at any moment. _

_ As soon as the meeting had ended, he had thanked everyone and left. They had assumed he had walked to the perimeter and disapparated, but when she had come out half an hour later with a book - he was still there, sitting on the beach, watching the waves roll in. It wasn’t particularly warm and Hermione could tell that, even from this distance, he was shivering from the sea spray. _

_ She knew she shouldn’t feel sorry for him, he had had everything handed to him from a young age - riches, political standing, blood status - she wouldn’t feel sorry for a boy who now realised it was all flawed. But the way his face looked, the way his hands were fiddling with the pebbles in the sand made her gut twist. _

_ She gingerly lifted herself from the porch seat, wrapping the blanket around her shoulders and walking down towards him. She felt her feet sinking into the sand as she walked down the soft hills and came to stand a little over a metre away from him. _

_ ‘We thought you had gone back to the Manor,’ she said to him, he did not turn to look at her, just put down the pebble in his hand. _

_ ‘I am preparing myself for it’ he muttered softly, almost inaudible above the crashing waves. _

_ ‘How is it there?’ she asked tentatively, the thoughts of him stepping foot back in that house flooded her with fear, weakening her strengthened resolve. At this he turned to face her, a sneer on his face. _

_ ‘How do you think it is with The Dark Lord stalking the halls at all hours?’ _

_ She did not know what to say to that. Imagining his face in the room where she was tortured was dreadful. She must have stood for at least 5 minutes, watching him in silence before she began to get light headed, swaying on the spot. She swallowed her pride and sat next to him, pulling her knees up and wrapping her arms around them _

_ ‘My father doesn’t even know what we have done,’ he said softly, he wasn’t specifically speaking to her, just airing his thoughts to the area. ‘Who knows what he will say when he finds out - if he finds out.’ _

_ ‘Why do you care what he thinks?’ she asked in a small voice. He shot a look at her and she bit her lip. _

_ ‘Do you care what your father thinks?’ he spat at her, then sighed and shrugged. ‘I know why you ask - clearly it’s not as if I want to follow in his footsteps but...he’s my father. He is the only man I have ever known to look up to. No matter how hard he pushed me, I was desperate to please him.’ _

_ ‘Sometimes we have to understand that just because someone is our family, does not mean we can’t cut them away if they are poisoning our lives,’ she said, quoting her own father. Draco looked at her and scoffed with a bitter smile. _

_ ‘You give good advice Granger - I hope someday to be able to follow some of it,’ _

_ She then watched as he rose from his seat, helped her up from the floor, walked past the defenses and disapparated without a backwards glance. _

  
  


‘I see Quidditch practise is going well,’ she said, leaning against the tree above him. He looked up and rolled his eyes at her, before staring back over the lake. ‘Practice many wronski feints?’ she asked.

‘The fact that you know those words astound me,’ he replied, dryly as she sat herself down next to him.

‘I spent 7 years hanging around two Quidditch obsessed boys - you think I wouldn’t pick up the lingo?’ she joked, pushing herself into him.

He sighed, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her into his lap. His eyes were distant and far away.

‘Draco - I can see something is bothering you.’ 

‘You picked up on it?’ he said with a bitter smile. ‘I have been trying to figure it out in my head.’

‘What?’

‘What happened - Theo,’ he explained.

‘Draco, even McGonagall said we might never know, as much as we want to find out. He will be okay!’ she reassured him, even if she didn't quite believe it herself.

‘But what about you?’ he asked, looking into her eyes. For the first time she swore she saw something new behind them. ‘It was your cup - who is out to get you?’

‘Draco , it may have escaped your notice but there are probably a lot of people who want to hurt me. In school - because I am currently annoying everyone with my choice of bed partner and out of school - because there are people who hate me for assisting Harry in his defeat of Voldemort.’ Draco winced at the name as if it caused him pain. He pushed her off him and stood, turning away from her.

‘It shouldn’t be like this - I am going to get answers if it...if…’

‘What?’ she asked, standing and putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘What do you mean get answers?’ 

He was extremely still as he spoke, ‘ I am going to speak to someone who might know something.’

‘Draco - you are not an Auror and this isn’t your investigation!’ she cried at him, turning him around and staring at him. Just like this morning, he would not meet her eye. ‘Who might know something?’

After a long pause, he turned to look at the lake and then back at her. His eyes were dark, as if haunted by something he could not explain. 

‘My father!’

‘Your father? But Draco he is…’

‘...in Azkaban! I know! Professor McGonagall has given me a special dispensation to visit this afternoon. I am leaving in half an hour.’

‘No!’ Hermione suddenly cried, throwing her fist into his robes, clutching at them with everything she had. ‘I don’t want you to go there!’

Although she had never been herself, she had researched the wizard prison, read interviews with prisoners there and seen the state of Death Eater’s returning from there for their trials at the ministry. Some of them had only been there a few weeks and they were nothing but skin and bone, their eyes sunken and their grey skin clinging to their skeleton. More than that, she knew what the Dementors could do to anyone who went near them, let alone prisoners. Remembering the way their cold breath covered her as she tried to get to Harry at the edge of the lake was enough to make her dry heave.

‘Please…’ her voice softened. ‘I won’t let you!’

His hand came up to cup hers and she was surprised to find them warm for someone who had been sat in the frigid spring air for the best part of 5 hours. He caressed his thumbs across her knuckles and brought them up to his lips, they were slightly chapped from where she guessed he had been chewing on them. Without warning he pushed them away and stepped back.

‘I’m sorry - but it’s not your choice to make.’

And for the second time that day, he walked away from her.

Storming through the castle and heading to Gryffindor tower, she felt furious - but not at him, at Lucius Malfoy. The hold that man had over Draco was ridiculous and she knew it would take a lot to break the lure that he held over him. She had seen Draco at Lucuis’ trial - she had gone to support Harry again. At that point, Draco had been a free man, willing to move on with his life - but there he had sat in the front row, staring at his father with a fear and admiration that she could not replicate.

‘I’m sorry,’ she heard a frantic whisper coming from a closed door as she passed, followed by an impossibly deep voice that Hermione seemed to recognise. It struck such a chord with her, that she edged closer and pressed her ear to the door.

‘You stupid girl - it was meant for him and him alone.’

‘Yes, but I thought that if…’

‘You are not here to think - you are here to do!’ the voice shouted and she could hear the female hiss back.

‘Why ask for my help if you don’t want my ideas?’

‘I thought it was you that wanted my help! Now, instead, there is a boy in St Mungo’s and I have Potter sniffing around.’

Hearing Harry’s name had been enough for her and she quickly pushed open the door to see who the two people were - only to find one.

‘Yes Granger?’ Pansy asked her in a spiteful tone trying to disguise the fact that she was blushing.

‘Parkinson!’ she stated, looking at the state of Pansy as she stood there. She looked around the room, but there was no one there. ‘Homenum Revelio!’ she cried, but her wand only vibrated and pointed to Pansy.

‘What are you doing Granger?’ Pansy asked with more force.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. ‘I heard you talking in here!’ she said.

‘Yes...I come in here to practise sometimes without others getting in the way..’ she was a quick liar, Hermione had to give her that.

‘They weren’t spells I heard…’

‘Snooping around in others lives now are we? Someone is bored now that the hero and his ginger aren’t here to play around with!’

Pansy pushed past her and stalked away from the room. Hermione walked in and looked around suspiciously - she had definitely heard another voice. It was then that Hermione’s eyes settled on the fireplace at the other end of the classroom, by the teacher’s desk. As she walked towards it, the grate was clearly empty, no sign of smoke or ash, but Hermione distinctly recognised the burning smell of floo powder.

* * *

Notes: Draco is so angsty right now and I love writing it! The plot thickens - who is out there trying to get at them! Sending you all my love and hopes for safety x


	18. Chapter 18

‘I hereby name this wizard Scorpius Hermes Malfoy’ the officiant said as Draco turned to the small crowd of people gathered there, showing off the small, chubby bundle wrapped in his arms. There was a small applause and a loud wolf whistle in her left ear and she sighed and smiled at Ron, whose fingers were in his mouth.

The naming ceremony had been Hermione’s idea long before the baby had been born. Originally she had wanted to do something more akin to a Muggle Christening but knew that it would be difficult to arrange and more difficult to get certain family members to attend. It was a small affair, what they both had wanted really, held in their home. She had wanted only close family and friends, but their definition of small had changed over the years with the amount of people their close families consisted of. Hermione watched as Scorpius was passed happily between the guests, each one getting their own special moment with him on his special day.

Mr and Mrs Weasley, doting on yet another baby to enter their throng on wild little ones, were speaking avidly to her own parents. Her mother and father looked a little out of place, they always did on occasions like this. Bill had whispered something into Fleur’s ear as she held Scorpius over her own swollen belly, a third one on the way to join Victoire and Dominique who were running around with Percy and Audrey’s daughters, Molly and Lucy. Hermione smiled as Percy handed him over to George, who looked more nervous than anyone to hold the small child, but Angelina placed a small hand under the baby's head and he relaxed and smiled into the warmth of his nestled body, placing a kiss on his wife’s cheek.

She spotted Draco across their garden, which he had said was the only place he wanted to have the party, talking to Blaise who was flanked by an impressively pregnant Ginny and Theo, who never brought a guest to any party for fear of the mockery it would bring. He had still not forgiven them when he came to a pub night with a new girlfriend from his work and had embarrassed him beyond belief. 

Hermione felt two arms snake around her neck and a heavy head rest on top of hers, she looked down to see a mass of freckles covering the pale skin and chuckled as Harry slid into view in front of her.

‘You throw a good shindig Hermione!’ Ron said, as he gently rocked them both.

'Let the woman go Ron! She doesn’t know where the extra desserts are - you know that ‘s Draco’s remit.’ 

She felt Ron sigh and move away from her. ‘Well - I am going to have to use my charm on the git,’ he gave a lopsided grin as he moved towards the other end of the garden.

‘How can we convince Ron that Draco just doesn’t play for our team?’ Harry asked with a smile.

‘I don’t think he will ever stop trying. As much as he dislikes him!’ Hermione confirmed.

‘He doesn’t dislike him,’ he started, but stopped when Hermione raised an eyebrow to him. 

‘He is right though- as always, your party is wonderful.’

‘And, as always, you have Draco to thank for that.’

Hermione wasn’t lying, Draco was the best party planner around. It definitely had something to do with the way he was raised and his mother's insistence on large gatherings of all their rich friends. She had patiently sat by while Draco had gone over the ‘menu’ four times, the drinks he wanted to serve, the colour theme and where different things would be placed in the garden. He had a minor hissy fit when Hermione had told him that it was meant to rain today, meaning he had cast impervious charms on every inch of the garden to ensure that no water would be able to get in before setting up. 

She had stood in the kitchen door, observing him move furniture and stand back to take in the space before throwing his hands up in frustration and starting again. She did not want to deny that this particular skill of his came in very handy, but it was increasingly wearing if it tended to go on for too long. It was for this reason that they hardly held any events and why she had wanted to take up Narcissa’s offer to host the event, but Draco was adamant to have it in their garden.

At that moment, Harry dismissed himself from her company as Draco strolled over to her. Scorpius had obviously finished his round of the party as well as he was safely returned in Draco’s strong arms. He looked like a treat today, his light blue button-down shirt stretched across his muscles, his pale forearms revealed as he had rolled up his sleeves and his hair falling into his eyes slightly as he smiled at her.

‘Success Mr Malfoy?’ she asked and he turned to scan the party again before raising an eyebrow and smirking at her.

‘Draco...Hermione, I must be off,’ came a timid voice and Narcissa was smoothly gliding towards them. Just like her parents, Draco’s mother always looked uncomfortable at their events.

Hermione would always say she glided anywhere she went, her footsteps unheard like the stalking of a cat to its prey. Over the years, her stern exterior had been softened by time and her pale features were tanned by the sun in the South of France, where she took up residence most of the time. She had changed considerably in her demeanor towards the couple in the time they had been together; at first indifference which turned to tolerance which, quickly, had made way for tenderness. Hermione still couldn’t remember a time when her and the former Mrs Malfoy, now Ms Black, had spent time alone together, but she did not mind all that much.

‘So soon Mother?’ Draco asked, as she placed a small kiss on his cheek and then spent a few moments looking at the baby, a softness in her eyes.

‘Unfortunately my Portkey to Saint-Sulpice-d'Excideuil is leaving within the hour and I must be prepared to travel. But, of course, you have hosted an excellent event.’ she smiled and turned to Hermione. ‘He is beautiful!’ she said quietly, but Hermione could tell she was sincere.

‘Thank you Narcissa. When can we expect another visit?’ she asked politely. 

Narcissa looked around at the party guests as she pondered, Hermione wondered if she didn’t want to insult anyone.

‘Hopefully soon,’ she arrived at, placing her hand on Hermione’s in a small gesture before turning to leave. 

‘I will show you out..’ Draco started to say, seemingly eager.

‘Please, stay with your family,’ she smiled sadly and turned. Hermione watches Draco’s eyes follow his mother through the house and out to the front door. Maybe he hoped that she would turn to look again before leaving, but she did not. She felt Draco sigh against her as he absentmindedly rocked Scorpius before returning Hermione’s smile, somewhat sadly.

She knew he was dwelling on her final words - your family. Hermione often wanted to grab Narcissa and make it clear that she was his family, but she was under the impression that Draco had fashioned his own, new unit that she was not a part of, could never deign to fit into. Looking around at the vast amount of odd couplings in the place, it was hard to agree with her.

  
  


* * *

She had walked quickly back to the common room, ignoring the instinct to run to Gryffindor tower, and had been halfway through a letter to Harry when she had stopped. Her quill had been in mid air, now dripping ink all over the parchment, when the idea of telling the boys what had happened suddenly seem idiotic. What would she say to them? I heard Pansy say your name and someone talking to her in riddles, but when I went in there was no one there. Yes, the fireplace smelt like Floo Powder but that wasn’t evidence of anything. When Harry and Ron had been here, she would have been the one talking them out of going full speed ahead on attacking someone with the same amount of evidence she had. But now, she had to be her own blocker.

She crumpled up the parchment, throwing it on the fire and leaning back into the back of the sofa, her mind going over the conversation. There had been no names other than Harry’s, no confirmed information other than Theo being in the hospital. She did not want to beleive that Pansy had anything to do with what happened to him...or what would have happened to her - but it all seemed so suspicious. The memory of the deep voice she had been speaking to washed over her again, and she could not shake the feeling that she knew it.

She wanted to tell Draco what she had heard, she needed a soundboard to make sure she did not sound as crazy as she thought she did. But he did not return all evening, as she sat and stared into the fire she could still hear Pansy’s conversation but could only see him, surrounded by the dark that his father would forever press upon him.

When she heard the tapestry move behind her, she swung around and saw him standing there, staring at her. The sight of him felt like a punch in the gut - he was dripping from head to toe his face drawn against his skin.

‘Draco.’ she gasped, moving to him and placing her hand on his cold cheek.

‘I thought you would be asleep,’ he muttered, pushing his face into her hand, his own hand covering hers. 

‘What happened?’ she asked, pulling him against her, feeling his wet clothes seeping through.

‘You were right Granger!’ he scoffed, pulling her hand down and holding it at his waist, and turning his head away from her. ‘I shouldn’t have gone to that place.’

She let go and pulled his face back to look at her, but he sighed and closed his eyes. There weren’t many times that he had looked so dejected and it shook her to see him like this. 

‘Come on,’ she said gently, pulling on his hand and leading him to his room. Once there she peeled his wet clothes off and cast a drying and warming charm on his hair, passing him some dry pyjamas to change into as she went to summon a house elf to bring him some sandwiches. When she re-entered the room, he was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. A lump started to form in her throat as she looked at him, but she knew she had to remain emotionless to get him to open up to her, so she walked and knelt between his knees, looking up at him.

‘Are you tired?’ she asked him and he nodded. ‘Do you want to go to sleep?’

‘No,’ he said, opening his eyes and looking at her, they were a dull grey. ‘I’ll wait for those sandwiches I know you have ordered,’ he smiled at her and she laughed.

The house-elf she had called upon did her job well, a tray soon arrived piled high with all sorts of flavours and a few bars of chocolate for good measure. She observed as he ate through half the tray and put the chocolate to his lips. It was nice to see some of his colour returning and he was able to sit up a little straighter as she moved up to sit next to him, taking his hand and entwining her fingers with his.

She could see him staring at where their hands met so she brought her other hand over to cradle his. 

‘Draco, please tell me what’s wrong.’ she said, but as he opened his mouth she cut in. ‘And please don’t say nothing.’ She gave his hand a squeeze. 

‘My father….he….’ she was on edge, waiting for his next words, but he sat up quickly and shook her hands off. ‘He didn’t have any information.’

‘But Draco…’ 

‘That’s it Hermione - he didn’t know - I am annoyed…’he got up and strode towards the bathroom door.

‘Draco!’ she cried, leaping up and grabbing hold of him. ‘I’m not letting you do this again!’

‘Granger - what has gotten into you?’ he sneered at her, but she could feel that his heart wasn’t in it.

‘Stop pulling away - if you can’t tell me what’s wrong then how do you expect me to stop questioning us?’ she said, and he stopped trying to pull away and went slack under her grip. She used this moment to talk again. ‘You don’t have to pretend around me, I thought you already knew that.’

‘I don’t want you to see me any differently.’ Draco hung his head and looked at his feet. ‘I don’t want to seem...weak,’ he scoffed, meeting her eyes. But she held firm, her stare imploring him to continue. He sighed. ‘You aren’t going to let this go are you?’ he raised his eyebrow as she smiled.

Taking her hand, he led her back to the bed and she sat down, crossing her legs under herself and watched him do the same opposite her. She steeled herself for whatever he had to say.

‘I didn’t get to ask my father anything because he spent the entire visit ranting at me about how much of a disappointment I am to him. How much he regrets giving me my name and...how he wishes I was dead. Don’t get me wrong,’ he said quickly when he saw her face, ‘I know I shouldn’t care what that man had to say about me - but he is my father.’

‘When I was younger - a lot younger, we were inseparable. Lucius would tell me all about our family history, read to me, play with me, teach me everything I wanted to know. It was only when I started to get older he put all this pressure on me, to be the best, to be more - to be a man. I could tell that it came from above...from Him - but he took it out on me. He pushed and pushed and…’

Hermione reached forward and placed a soft hand on his knee.

‘All I ever wanted was to please him. So I did everything I could. Pushed every bad feeling down, tore myself apart for his jobs, gave up my freedom for his mark, sold my soul - for him. And now - I am nothing.’

Without thinking, she leapt forward, taking him in her arms and kissing him. She kissed with everything she had, wanting to tell him that he wasn’t nothing.

‘Draco,’ she whispered, pulling back and taking his face in her hands. ‘You are my everything!’

It had slipped out of her mouth before she had a chance to think about the right words, her face falling at the admission. He was silent under her, breathing and staring as if he too was lost for words.

‘Why?’ he asked softly.

‘Because without you - I am nothing!’ she sighed into him as he thrust his hands around her and kissed her.

When he had fallen asleep, she watched him. She usually fell asleep first, but he had been so exhausted from his visit that as soon as his head hit the pillow - he was gone. She had lain there, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing and wondering how her year had gotten so lost. She had come to finish her studies, to focus on her own path and here she was, lying next to a sleeping Draco Malfoy days after a poison incident. It would seem that it isn’t Harry and Ron who always got her into trouble.

She had rollen to her side and her eyes had fallen on him. His arms were thrown above his head, revealing the small amount of blonde hair that rested at the apex of his arm and his torso. She could see now, for the first time up close, the faint smattering of scars that resided across him, winding around him like he had been attacked by vines. They were wire thin and in the moonlight that shone through the window, they were silver. She traced her finger over a scar that twirled around his belly button and dipped below his waistline; it was only slightly raised from the rest of his ghostly skin and he groaned as she laid her finger upon it. 

  
  


_ ‘Did you do it?’ she cried at him as he ran in through the portrait hole, breathing heavily. _

_ He stopped in front of her and Ron, standing almost to attention as they stared at him. _

_ ‘Yes, it’s hidden!’ _

_ ‘Harry, how could you have been so stupid, you had no idea what that spell could do!’ she shouted at him. _

_ ‘Hermione...I know…,’ _

_ ‘You could have killed him!’ she said, as he stopped and slumped down on the side of a table.  _

_ He had run in and demanded that Ron give his Potions book and, of course, Ron had given it over without even asking. It was only when Harry had returned that he told them what had happened, shame filling his eyes as he told them. _

_ He had been obsessed with Malfoy all year, following him and making accusations and Hermione had had enough of it. After she had shouted at him, Harry had promised to leave him alone, but today they had fought. He had used a spell that Hermione had never even heard of and Harry had said it was for enemies. _

_ ‘Enemies?’ Hermione had pushed. _

_ ‘I mean - I know he is bad - but I don’t think Malfoy is our enemy!’ Ron muttered under his breath. _

_ Harry had gone into a lot of detail about the blood that he had seen, the way in which Malfoy’s skin had ripped open and how Snape had only just got there in time. They had made him take it somewhere to hide it, somewhere he would never find it again - it was too much of a temptation. _

_ ‘I don’t know what came over me Hermione,’ said Harry softly. ‘I have been so...angry and lost and...he was just there.’ _

_ ‘You cannot use the wrong place, wrong time this time Harry - I can’t believe you would stoop this low.’ _

_ As she looked down at him, she knew she had never felt like this about Harry before. He had been a rock for the two of them for so long, a constant in their lives, a point of bravery. She would never tell him this; knew it would tear him apart - but today she had lost something for him.  _

_ ‘Hermione,’ he was looking at her sheepishly, ‘Will you come with me?’ he asked her. _

_ ‘Where?’ she asked, her brows furrowed. _

_ ‘To see if he is okay.’ _

_ They made their way down to the hospital wing after dark under the cloak, their footsteps echoing of the empty stone walls. They rushed, not wanting to be out for longer than they needed, she knew that Harry needed to see him, and wanted to put it right.  _

_ When they reached the door, he stopped in front of her so suddenly that she nearly went into the back of him. Harry slowly opened the door and they both made their way across to his bed and pulled back the privacy curtain that shielded him from their view. Harry grabbed at her arm as they saw him, she thought he might lose his balance at the sight. _

_ Draco’s face was like death, pale and still and his breathing shallow and small. His pyjama shirt was unbuttoned and the bandages that covered his torso were slightly red from blood. _

_ ‘Hermione - will he ever forgive me?’ he whispered. _

_ ‘All you can do is apologise Harry.’ she whispered back. _

_ ‘How will I ever forgive myself?’ he asked, his voice breaking as he moved his hand to hold hers. _

  
  


In the week that followed, Draco was much brighter and Hermione had begun to feel that maybe this year wasn’t going to be so bad after all. His hand was strong in hers, his public displays of affection were broaching on indecent and he had even smiled at her in front of others at least once. 

By the time they were walking to potions one Monday morning, she was in higher spirit than she had been all week and was nattering on as Draco just nodded along at her.

‘...so then Harry owled me back and asked if you wanted to come along to their next Hogsmeade visit?’ she asked him, and he turned to her with furrowed eyebrows.

‘They want me to come along?’ he asked, as they pushed through a large group of sixth years who moaned at being moved around.

‘Apparently they want to discuss something with us,’ Hermione shrugged as they came to the dungeon and she rested herself against the wall, waiting for Professor Slughorn to arrive.

‘Well that doesn’t sound like I am about to be murdered!’ he rolled his eyes at her as Blaise came and stood in front of them.

‘Hi Hermione - are you the one murdering Draco this morning?’ he chuckled and performed an odd bow to her as she smiled back at him.

‘No unfortunately not!’ she replied.

‘Zabini - when do we hear from Mungo’s next?’ Draco asked quickly but Blaise did not have time to answer when Slughorn came down the corridor and ushered them in. 

Hermione went to her normal table near the back and watched as Draco moved to the desk before her. From behind she noticed that his hair was standing a little up at the back and smiled to herself knowing that this was because he had not been able to dry his hair properly after his shower as she had thrown herself at him for a morning snog session. 

It wasn’t as if she had had many boyfriends in the past - okay, she had had all of no boyfriends in the past, but she had always thought that girls with boyfriends acted silly. She had seen Lavender practically drool over Ron and Ginny lose her mind over Harry and always wondered what could possibly make them want to act like that, But now, knowing what it feels like to be in someone’s arms and know you are in their thoughts - she kind of understood where they were coming from; as much as it caused he to roll her eyes at herself.

She saw Draco looking around the room suspiciously and she wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he had already turned to Blaise.

‘Where is Parkinson?’ she heard him whisper.

‘I heard that some people snuck Firewhisky into the girls dormitory last night and she is feeling a little worse for wear.’ Blaise snorted.

‘She never could hold her liquor!’ Draco laughed and turned to smile at Hermione, who smiled back, but her stomach felt a little like lead.

She often had to remind herself that no matter what was happening now, Pansy and Draco did have a past and nothing she did could change that. O,e day, Hermione hoped, Draco would know too much about her and be able to reem off information. Unfortunately, all she felt now was annoyed and on edge. She had not been able to tell Draco about the conversation she had overhead in the classroom last week because he had been in such an awful state; and since then he had been so good, everything had been so good, that she did not want to ruin it. At least, Hermione thought to herself, if Pansy was not here, then nothing could go wrong.

‘Today, you will be continuing to work on your Draught of the Living Death. Now, I know that most of you will have done this before, but I wanted to make sure you know it,’ Professor Slughorn was reeling off. ‘You have until the end of the lesson, off you go.’

Hermione walked off to the potions store to grab some ingredients and when she came back, she could see Draco’s potion already bubbling away. A little part of her seared with jealousy at his ability in this class, it was one of the things he was so much better at than her. He prepared ingredients with such elegance, and mixed his cauldron like he was mixing a bolognese sauce, talking to Blaise about Quidditch. It was infuriating.

Hermione was trying to prepare her own ingredients when the classroom door behind her opened slowly, she moved to see who was coming in, expecting to see a sickly green Pansy, but there was no one there. She looked around the classroom, but no one had seemed to notice what had happened so she just went back to cutting up her Sopophorous Beans. She suddenly remembered about Harry in sixth year and began to crush the juice out of them when she turned quickly, narrowing her eyes behind her. She could feel someone watching her, as if Harry were there with his invisibility cloak on.

‘Hermione?’ she heard her voice and turned to see Blaise. ‘You okay?’ he asked from his cauldron and she smiled and nodded shaking it off.

Moving back to her cauldron, she stirred it three times anticlockwise and watched as the liquid turned from a red to a deep purple and she turned the heat down with a flick of her wand to simmer. It was as she was tidying up her desk of bean shells that she felt it again, the tingle down her spine, the thumping in her chest that told her something wasn’t right. 

And then she felt it, a pain in her foot as if she had been stamped on.

‘Ow!’ she cried out, wincing and pulling her foot up.

‘Hermione, what’s wrong?’ Draco asked, turning with his back to his cauldron.

‘Someone just stood on my foot, but there was no one here!’ she explained. Draco looked thoroughly confused, and she didn’t blame him. He moved away from his desk and Blaise and came around to hers and looked down at her.

‘What?’ he asked.

‘Someone just…’ but before she could finish there was an almighty bang and she felt herself being pushed to the floor by Draco. All she could see and hear was a large cloud of black smoke and Professor Slughorn yelling and trying to clear the room.

‘Mr Malfoy, what happened?’ Slughorn cried as the mist cleared, his face purple and angry, and Hermione laid eyes on his cauldron, which had been blown apart by the force of the explosion.

‘I was over here Professor, my potion still had 5 minutes of simmer time. I had just added the bean juice sir.’

Draco’s face was a mixture of confusion and anguish, he had never messed up a potion before and all the class were looking at him like he was an idiot.

‘Well, maybe Mr Zabini can clear this up.’ he turned, but Hermione could not see Blaise. ‘Mr Zabini?’ he called sounding shocked. ‘Help me Mr Malfoy.’ and Draco ran around the table and yelled.

‘Blaise! Blaise!’ he shouted, dropping to his knees and Hermione followed him around the room and screamed at what she saw. 

Blaise was lying on the floor, his skin covered in a thick black paste and his eyes were open. He looked dead and for a horrific moment, Hermione’s mind started to spin off as if she were right back in the thick of battle, trying to shut everything out that threatened to get to her. Her vision started to spin and she felt sick, gripping the edge of the table. She started to breath heavily before her world went black.

‘Hermione!’ he heard him, he sounded fuzzy but far away. ‘Hermione, take a deep breath, count to four and open your eyes.’

Although she did not know why, she followed the hazy instructions and, before long, she opened her eyes and swallowed. She was sitting against the wall of the dungeon, her arms wrapped around her knees and Draco kneeling in front of her. She eyes snapped to where Blaise had been, but he was gone, she looked up and saw Professor McGonagall next to Professor Slughorn but, other than that, the room was empty.

‘What happened?’ she asked Draco.

‘Miss Granger, it seems you had a panic attack at the sight of Mr Zabini,’ Professor McGonagall told her. ‘You have been sitting there for around 10 minutes, breathing rapidly.’

‘What about Blaise?’ she asked quickly.

‘Mr Zabini will be fine. When the cauldron exploded, he was the closest person and so he got the full brunt of the bang. The Draught of the Living Death can be deadly, but because of the mix up he was knocked unconscious and does have a concussion. He is awake but groggy and is spending the night in the hospital wing.’

Draco helped her gingerly to her feet and her eyes landed on the cauldron.

‘And that?’ she asked.

‘Yes, well...Mr Malfoy assures us that he followed the recipe and I am inclined to believe my best student,’ Professor Slughorn started. ‘When I tested the ingredient it would seem that - well - the potion has been tampered with.’

‘Tampered with?’ Draco asked, confused. ‘But there was no one here!’

‘I told you didn’t I - that I felt someone. Professor,’ Hermione said, turning to the Headmistresses ‘I felt someone in the room, they opened the door and stood on my foot but I could not see them.’

Professor McGonagall looked between the other three people in the room and sighed.

‘Mr Malfoy, Miss Granger - it would appear that now would be the time to inform Mr Potter and Mr Weasley about what had happened,’ said Professor McGonagall sternly.

‘Well Mr Malfoy - if this potion had exploded and someone had used the right ingredient to do so, you would have been killed instantly.’

* * *

Notes - And once again the plot thickens. I really hope that all my lovely readers are enjoying it and thinking up their own theories to what is going on!!! Stay Safe!


	19. Chapter 19

_ ‘Edelweiss, Edelweiss, hmmmmm. Hmmmmmm. Hmmmm. You look happy to meet me. _

_ Blossom of snow may you bloom and grow _

_ Bloom and grow forever _

_ Hmmmmm, Hmmmm, Bless my homeland forever.’ _

She lowered Scorpius’ sleeping frame into his crib and ran her hand down the side of his face gently, watching his eyes flicker under her touch,

‘Goodnight my Prince,’ she whispered, pulling herself up and leaving the room, muttering a sonorus charm and closing the door.

Over the past few months she had adjusted to motherhood more than she could have ever have hoped to. It was not a secret, especially amongst her closest friends, that Hermione was prone to run when things got too comfortable. She had become so accustomed to the feeling of danger and the thrill of running that being in one place for too long had starved her - living on the run would do that to you, was always Harry’s comment on this. It was exactly the reason why she had moved departments approximately every 8 months at the ministry. It was why she was determined to re-style her hair every 6 weeks to keep things interesting. And finally, it was why her and Draco had now lived in three houses in their four years of marriage. It was these small hints of her PTSD that seemed to keep her grounded - knowing that she didn’t leave the war scot free, her own form of personal punishment.

She had only really spoken about this with Draco and Harry, whose memories of the war came back to them frighteningly often. It was Harry who had talked her down from the metaphorical ledge when buying their third home. The three of them had come to some form of unspoken agreement that no matter what side you were on, there was no way that some of the actions they commited were justified, and it made her breathe easy at night to feel this way. The nightmares for both her and Draco were few and far between, even less so now that Scorpius had come along and Hermione had come to the frightening realisation that her mind might be almost ready to heal.

Hermione thrived when things got tough and had wholly expected that a baby would be her toughest job yet, and was unexpectedly surprised. Being a mother, despite the obvious tired days and difficult nights, had been easier than getting Ron to complete Transfiguration homework and as such - she was comfortable. She could see Draco had come to the same conclusion as he had begun to look at her out of the corner of his eye over dinner and in the evenings when getting ready for bed. She watched as the side of his jaw would clench and unclench as if he was biting his tongue to not bring it up with her. He wanted to see when she would suggest it was time for her to move, or change something...or leave. Hermione was under the impression that he would never stop being afraid that she would leave.

It was the look he had on his face when she looked up from their son's door, as he stood in the middle of the corridor observing her. She did not know how long he had been waiting there and his face was somewhat pained as he stared over her, like he thought she was going to say something terrible. It was the same face he had made when she told him she loved him for the first time - what would usually be a happy moment but filled the young blonde with dread. 

She moved silently over to him and placed a small kiss on his lips.

‘Sickle for the thoughts?’ she asked, running her hands down his spine and relishing in the feel of his body shivering against hers.

‘How is he?’ he asked, clearly avoiding the question.

‘Asleep.’ she smiled. 

‘What was the song you were singing?’ he asked, his brows furrowed. She took his hand and led him to their bedroom down the hall. She spoke to him as she walked to the ensuite to brush her teeth and he started to play with the duvet cover. 

‘A song my mother used to sing. It’s from an old muggle film.’

‘It’s pretty. What does it mean?’ His voice was unusually soft, so she turned from the sink to look at him. He was sat on the end of the bed and she could not help but notice that he was fiddling with his hands, something he rarely did. She ignored his movement and explained. 

‘The song is about a flower that grows in the snow. It represents family, love and devotion.’ she said, leaning against the doorframe with her toothbrush hanging out of her mouth.

‘And the film?’ he asked, he was trying very hard to keep her mind off him, but she could mistake his eyes wandering around the room.

‘Nazi’s!’ she smiled and chuckled at his confused expression, shrugging and went to finish off her preparations for bed. She made sure to take an extra amount of time changing into some sweatpants and t-shirt and tying her unruly hair up to give him a chance to settle himself for whatever he needed to tell her.

Over their years together she had realised, and it had taken her a stupidly long time to do so, that Draco did not take kindly to being confronted. She knew it had something to do with having Voldemort stationed at his childhood home and his aversion to particularly loud noises which made it impossible to sneak up on him and sometimes deadly to shout at him. Conversations had to be slow burned to ensure they did not ignite. In their younger days, the explosions had been a sight.

When she came out, he was sitting in the same position, his hands still clamped to each other as if they were his life force. He was now staring at a spot in the carpet as if willing it to catch on fire. He did not even move when she came to stand in front of him, directly on the spot he was staring at.

‘What’s wrong?’ she said, drawing a finger under his chin and lifting his eyes to her. He looked at her for a long time, as is formulating his words carefully. She had the distinct feeling that they were about to have a fight and did not really want to wake up the baby.

‘Do you miss work?’ he finally asked her, his voice little more than a whisper.

To anyone listening, it would have sounded like a reasonable question to ask your wife, but Hermione knew that when Draco wanted to talk about something big, he would ask a strange and related question. She took in his face and took a breath, trying to answer without being caught out.

‘I love being here,’ she answered and he sighed, his shoulder sluggish and he looked away from her, biting his lip. Hermione did miss work, for someone who loved to be as busy as she did, her office had been the first place since leaving Hogwarts where she had been comfortable. The decision to take a year off with the baby had not been an easy one, but she knew that she would be able to step back into legislation when she returned, but Draco could not easily step away from cases.

‘I don’t want you to think that this had anything to do with Scorpius…’ he trailed off, Hermione could feel herself getting nervous, her lip twitching as he spoke to her.

‘Draco - can you just come out with it!’ she said, taking a step back feeling a little irritated that he was skating around her. ‘I am a big girl you know! He sighed and stood.

‘Hermione, do you want to go back to work?’ he asked, with a bit more confidence.

Eventually I would, you know that!’ she sighed at him.

‘I mean sooner than eventually - like...in a month.’ He was looking at her trying to gauge her reaction.

‘Draco, don’t! There is no way I can go back to work right now, there is no one to take care of Scorpius. We made the deal that I would stay off work for at least a year.’

‘Love, I know what you are like,’ he said, placing his hands on her arms. ‘You get...antsy.’

‘I knew it was about this - have I even suggested we started packing yet?’

‘It’s only a matter of time,’ he chuckled. ‘But, no. I was called into Pritchards office today. He wanted to tell me that he thinks the charm work on the latest curse break is ready and it should be completed by the end of the month.’

‘I am glad that you have that job finished, you have worked your arse off for that - but what does this have to do with me?’

‘They have offered me a sabbatical, love. The next two curse jobs are well below my pay grade and Pritchards says that this is the perfect time for me to take some time. In his words ‘a young family is something to cherish’ and I thought….’

She watched as Draco started to pace in front of her, rambling about his meeting with his boss. It was not often that he worked himself into such a state, it was usually best to let him work it out.

‘Hermione - I want to take it. I want to take the time off. I want to...spend all day with my son.’ he looked sheepish as he said it, she smiled at him and placed her hand on his cheek.

‘Draco, why didn’t you just come out and say it?’ she asked.

‘I was worried that you would assume that I thought Scorpius didn’t need you anymore. I just - I want to give you everything and I know how much your career means to you.’ He pulled her close and she could feel the tingle down to her toes. ‘You are being really quiet - can you just tell me please.’ She pulled away from him and slowly smiled.

‘If you want to stay home, who am I to stop you!’

Draco’s face split into a grin as he pulled her in and brushed his lips onto hers. 

  
  


* * *

‘I think it was Pansy,’ Hermione said in a small voice.

They were stood by Blaise’s bed in the hospital wing, and had been for the last 10 minutes. When Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn had asked them a few more questions, they insisted that the both of them go straight to the hospital wing to get a check over. It had taken a lot of poking and prodding to make the nurse happy with their apparent healthy condition before they dragged themselves over to the bed on the other side of the hospital wing. Draco, who had refused to be prodded for more than a minute, had gone straight over there. As she had been worked on, Hermione had watched him out of the corner of her eye, standing and looking down at his friend in silence.

His face was unreadable - not that it was unusual for Draco to be this way, but his eyes narrowed as he looked down at his dark friend. Madam Pomprhey had told them that he would make a full recovery, which Hermione had greeted with a moan of relief and had made Draco’s lip twitch, but due to the strength of the original potion and the fact that they were yet to work out the extra ingredient that had been added, Zabini would be in a coma for the foreseeable future.

It was at this point that she had decided to stop keeping her thoughts on the situation to herself and, make or break, she had to tell Draco.

‘What?’ he asked, shaking his head out of his apparent stupor. She sighed, knowing that this was going to be a strange conversation.

‘I think it was Pansy that blew up your cauldron.’

Draco was silent as he looked at her incredulously and she waited for his response. He took a long breath and then looked down at his friend again.

Secretly, not that Hermione would admit it to anymore, she wanted her suspicions of Pansy to be wrong. It was not as if she liked the girl; she was vile and her past relationship with Draco made Hermione’s ears red with anger - but she was still their fellow student. She had once been Draco’s friend; they had spent countless holidays together as children and had also been almost engaged. And as Hermione stared at Draco across the white linen that rose and fell softly, she could also hear his brain trying to argue the same things.

‘Not here!’ he said, quietly and began to leave the room. 

Just like three weeks before, they walked back to the common room in silence. He walked a few paces ahead of her and she knew better than to try to catch up with him or talk to him out in the open. From her experience with Harry, she understood the importance of private conversations; something that Draco and Pansy both had a lot to learn about. Hermione only hoped that by moving their conversation he was willing to hear her out, but when they arrived and he had turned to face her, his expression was stony.

‘Hermione , one of my best friends is now lying in the hospital wing. Another is lying almost dead in St Mungo’s and now...you are accusing maybe one of the only friends I have left of doing it.’ he said, too slowly for Hermione’s liking. 

‘Draco...I know that this sounds odd and that this accusation is coming from nowhere, but..I have something to tell you.’

Draco listened silently, standing in front of her while Hermione told him what she had heard from Pansy the day he went to Azkaban. She tried to remain objective as she described the other voice that she heard and the fact that she had smelled the floor powder, but the more she spoke the more unconvinced he looked. She tried to push on, ignoring the words from his own private conversation with Pansy invading her mind, and telling him about all the ways in which the girl had been baiting her. By the time she got around to repeating herself about what she had seen in the classroom, she felt completely foolish.

‘I know I sound crazy...but I saw the door open and someone stepped on me.’

‘You do sound crazy…’ he said as his eyes were fixed on her across the room. ‘...and jealous.’ 

‘I have nothing to be jealous of,’ she scoffed at him. ‘I know what I heard. I am just trying to get it through to you.’

‘Hermione- Blaise said that Pansy was ill today.’ he said, pushing her words off. ‘And...why would she...she….she was my....and...you didn’t even see anyone.’

It was obvious to her that he was clutching at straws, trying anything to find a way to make it not be Pansy that was causing all this mayhem. It was in that moment that she felt for him and, in the same way he wished his friends to be okay again, he wished that he would be able to excuse Pansy for whatever she did to them.

‘Draco...;’ she sighed, walking towards him and taking his hand. ‘I don’t have the answers, I am just telling you what I heard.’

‘Hermione,’ he turned around. ‘I just….I just don’t think it was her.’ 

‘But what about…’ she started.

‘Look - why can’t you just trust me on this?’ he asked, frustrated with her continuing the conversation. ‘I know her - have known for years. What does she have to gain from hurting me?’

‘What does she have to lose?’ Hermione, asked him in almost a whisper. 

He looked away from her and she knew he was trying to wrap his head around their conversation. ‘Why didn’t you tell McGonagall?’ he asked her.

‘The last time I was next to someone who accused a certain Slytherin of poisoning someone to McGonagall - it was not received well.’ she explained. ‘I thought maybe I would tell - ‘

‘- Harry.’ he finished for her and she nodded. 

  
  
  


‘Do we have to do this today?’ he asked her as they handed over their books to Madam Pince in the library. She shot an irritated glance over to him and sighed.

‘You promised!’ she pleaded with him, knowing that he did not want to go anywhere today.

Hermione had owled Harry straight after her and Draco’s last conversation, much to Draco’s annoyance but Harry’s response to her had been short, which she had found strange. His only mention of the incident is that they would talk to her when they saw her at the next Hogsmeade weekend; the one that they had invited Draco to join them on. Part of her understood why his letter to her was little, he hated having to send a lot of information over such an interceptable mode of communication. But another part of her longed to understand his opinion and wanted to know what he was hiding.

When she had made it clear to Draco that he would be attending the visit he had, for want of a better word, had a tantrum and had outright refused. Three days of this, he was a stubborn pureblood after all, had made the most recent prefect meeting completely uncomfortable to where Ginny, who was already upset about Blaise and Theo, shouted at Draco for being a prat. Everyone had laughed at him and he had apologised to her later that evening, but had not gotten over it completely. Because of this she fought against her better judgement and did not tell Draco and Pansy had not attended the meeting.

‘I know I promised - and a Malfoy always keeps his word. But it still doesn’t mean I want to do,’ he snapped at her as he threw his books a little too carelessly on the counter, earning him a prissy noise from Madam Pince.

‘You know I won’t put up with childish antics - otherwise Ron would have always got his way! We are going!’ she repeated as she picked up a fresh set of books and made her way to the exit, knowing that Draco would be following her like a puppy.

She had been looking forward to seeing Harry and Ron again away from Grimmauld Place, knowing that the secrets that had been between them were over and that they would be able to spend time together like they used to. She had initially been surprised that they had invited Draco along, well that Harry had invited him; that he was so quick to accept what they were to each other. Draco had, obviously, been less than pleased and Hermione had thought to herself that she may have to accept the way he reacted to her friends, in the same way that she knew Ron would probably never accept Draco; who had overreacted that morning and had said he did not want to associated with the Golden Trio.

‘Don’t be so dense Draco!’ she had snapped at him that morning after breakfast as they had made their way to the library.

‘I’m not! I’m just saying that being seen with the three of you is going to be bad for my rep.’ he chuckled as he nudged her in the ribs.

‘Well being bad for your rep may also earn you a little brownie point in bed!’ she whispered to him, enjoying the way his eyebrows had popped up to his forehead and his eyes had snapped to her.

‘Miss Granger - I do not appreciate how you like to play dirty now!’ he sighed.

But she did not regret it because as they walked down to Hogsmeade, the sun shining down on them through the partially cloudy sky, Draco’s shoulders looked particularly less heavy and he even took his hand in hers. 

The Three Broomsticks had not changed much since the end of the war and, of course, was today filled with students enjoying the time out of school. Now that the weather had started to warm up after the long Scottish winter and the fires were no longer needed, the bar had an airy and happy feel. Hermione, who was not a fan of large crowds anymore, thought to enjoy the carefree way in which many of the older students were enjoying their time but as they entered, a lot of the people sitting closest to the door had turned to look at them, throwing looks of disdain. She felt Draco twitch next to her as he caught the eye of a loud group of people almost shouting about war reparations and her heart felt heavy. It was usually easier to ignore comments like this at school where they had the power to take points and set detentions; but they were not able to report people going about their daily lives.

‘Over here!’ she heard a shout and looked to the back to see Harry and Ron seated in a small booth. She smiled at Harry as he started waving enthusiastically at them and silently thanked him for getting them out of the awkward situation. He pulled himself out to greet them, hugging Hermione as she placed a kiss on his cheek and throwing a hand out for Draco to shake. Ron, however, did not get up but gave a half hearted smile as she scooted herself around the booth to sit next to him.

‘Malfoy!’ he said in a clipped voice.

‘Weasley!’ he returned with a chuckle.

There was a tense moment of silence as Hermione watched between the two of them, almost as if they were taking part in a silent battle of wits; whoever was to look away first was the loser.

‘So...how’s the office?’ Hermione asked slowly, hoping that she could break the tension. To her relief, Harry answered.

‘It’s okay. There are quite a few cases flowing in at the moment; can’t discuss in detail, but they are assigning Ron and I separately to new Senior Auror’s.’ he smiled.

‘Yeah - apparently they feel that our talents might lie better when we are apart!’ Ron rolled his eyes. She didn’t want to say anything, but Hermione knew how much of a distraction they could be to each other, so she just made a small face to Harry, who laughed and nodded.

‘What about school?’ Harry asked.

‘Well…’ Hermione wanted to launch into the conversation about what had been happening but saw him quickly shake his head.

‘Not bad!’ Draco drawled quickly, Hermione snapped her head to his with a confused face. ‘Of course, try not to sound like our absent father when you ask the question next time!’ She saw him top his head slightly and she looked around the room of the pub to see a few eyes peering at them. 

‘Cut it Malfoy!’ Ron glared, but his eyes were wide as if he knew too.

‘Hermione had not thought to realise that by coming to such a crowded location would cause such a stir of interest. It often struck her how strange her life was now. Within the walls of Hogwarts she was just another student and people had stopped staring at her after the first few weeks, but out in public she was a War Heroine. Not only that, she was currently sat as one-third of the Golden Trio and an ex-Death Eater. How much more controversial did she want to get?

‘Want to get out of here?’ she asked overly loud. ‘I was thinking of grabbing a new quill and some ink.’

‘Yeah, of course. We can grab some lunch as well?’ Harry asked with a smile.

All four of them exited the pub and made their way down the high street and it was here that the looks and smiles continued. She felt Harry throw his arm over her shoulders as they walked as he smiled and turned to whisper in her ear.

‘We will talk later, just not here!’ he said, she just smiled and nodded, turning to see Draco walking behind her, looking a little out of place. ‘How about a walk?’ he asked, looking at the other two.

They made their way towards the wooded area by the shrieking shack, walking past the rocking building and further into a small, well hidden glade. Hermione quickly cast her protection charms from the previous year and propped herself against a rock, watching the three boys precariously. 

‘They won’t investigate!’ Harry said before she could ask.

‘But…’ she was astounded ‘This is the second attempt on either or our lives!’ she said.

‘We know that!’ Ron sighed, putting his hands in his pocket and shrugging. ‘We even took it to Robards but he says it just isn’t important!’

‘You mean I’m not important!’ Draco snarled.

‘No - I don’t think that's…’ Hermione said.

‘He’s right Hermione!’ said Harry. ‘The whole Auror office doesn't take lightly to Draco not being a Death Eater. They are annoyed that he got off so lightly at his trial!’

Hermione crossed her arms and looked over to Draco who was staring at the floor.

‘Well - go above him. What does Kingsley say?’ she asked, even more irritated than before.

‘Dawlish has told us that we are bringing it up at the next meeting,’ offered Ron.

‘And asked us not to go to Kingsley about it until we have discussed it with the Order.’

Hermione looked between her two friends as they shot a look at each other. She knew it well, it was their silent communication to discuss whether or not to tell her something. She had seen it many times before, usually when they had a silly plan that they didn’t want her to know about. Draco was still looking at the floor, looking sorry for himself and clearly did not want to speak.

‘Are you going to tell me what you are thinking about?’ she asked them, almost accusatory.

‘We can’t hide anything can we?’ Harry asked with a light laugh as he came to stand in front of her. ‘We popped by St Mungo’s on a lunch break…’

‘Is he okay?’ Draco piped up and walked over to them, concern etched in his features.

‘He is still under, we claimed to be investigating the case and asked if they had figured the poison out.’

‘And?’ Draco urged as once again, the boys looked at each other again.

‘They said they had never come across it before...out of the Unspeakable experiment accidents.’

‘But - that would mean the poison would have to have come from within the ministry. Who from the ministry would want us dead.?’

‘I don’t think you were the first to aim for Hermione.’ Draco said quietly. ‘The question is who from the ministry wants me dead?’

‘And what does Parkinson have to do with it?’ Ron asked.

‘I don’t think Pansy has anything to do with it!’ Draco said, putting his hand out towards them, making Hermione roll her eyes and an awkward silence fell over the group as they looked between each other.

‘Malfoy, does she have any connections to the Ministry?’ Harry asked him.

‘No. Her father is a Potions Master that has always refused ministry contracts. She had no other siblings and all her friends still attend Hogwarts. And why would she do it?’ he turned to Hermione. ‘We already talked about this!’ he said through gritted teeth.

‘We just have to take everything into account. Is there anyone else who we know may have connections within the Unspeakable office?’ Harry continued, looking between Ron and Hermione. 

‘That would be half of the school Potter!’ Draco said, his voice rising.

‘All right Malfoy! He was only asking!’ cried Ron, taking a step forward.

‘Look!’ Hermione said, before the conversation escalated. ‘We are all going to have to keep an eye out both at school and at work. Whenever the next meeting is called, we will talk about it more then. In the mean-time, Harry, can you keep an eye on some of the people in the Auror office or maybe do some digging in the Department of Mysteries?’ she asked.

‘I never wanted to go back there!’ Ron moaned under his breath, subconsciously grabbing at his arm where she knew his scars from the last encounter there lay.

‘That I can do.’ he said quickly, ignoring Ron’s comment. ‘Can you look out for others who may be looking to hurt you...either of you. Malfoy I am sorry - but we are gonna need to keep an eye on Pansy too, she is one of our suspects now.’

He sighed and nodded his head, his jaw clenched and his fists tight. Hermione’s mind was reeling from the conversation, she knew there would be people out there who did not agree with the Wizenagamot’s decision to clear Draco and his mother of all charges, not matter what their precious Golden Trio said, but it shocked her the lengths that people would go to. The whole reason they had fought the war was to ensure that everyone was treated fairly, given a fair trial; and yet somehow she was still fighting against those who would see others. Even within the ministry it would appear that people still couldn’t learn to accept others.

When she awoke the next morning, she opened her eyes to find that Draco was already awake, his pale skin shining in the early sunlight streaming into the room. He was staring at the canopy above them, one arm raised above his head, his face a mixture of sadness and contemplation. 

He had been particularly quiet for the rest of the Hogsmeade visit, letting Harry and Ron pull her into different shops while he held her hand, looking around distractedly. They had said goodbye and walked to the Great Hall for dinner, where he sat by himself at the Slytherin Table, picking at his plate. Back in the common room he had settled in his bed early, reading until she had come to his bedroom door, silently asking permission to join him. Although this was more a formality between them now, he had still looked like he needed to think about it before he scooted over to make room for her.

Now, as she studied him, her chest became heavy with the feeling that he was not alright after the conversation in the wooded glade. She understood what it was like to feel like an outcast; ignoring the nagging in her head that told her it was because of him she felt this way.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, her voice thick with sleep. He obviously thought she was still asleep as he turned his head at her voice and gave her a faint smile. 

‘Just...thinking!’ he answered, clearing his throat as he did so. She moved closer to him in the sheet, molding her body against his warm side.

‘What are you thinking about?’ she already knew the answer, already knew that he was not likely to tell her; but hoping he would.

‘Just - watching you yesterday….’ he trailed off and resumed looking at the canopy.

‘Watching me? When?’ she inquired.

‘With them - Potter and Weasley. You are so...free...with them.’ he said, he almost sounded sad as he said it. 

‘What do you mean? I am free with you!’ she chuckled, but stopped when he rolled to face her and brushed his thumb across her cheekbone 

‘Not like that,’ he sighed. ‘When you were talking to them in the woods, you were so authorative with them; they listened to you like you were the only one they would ever listen to. When you were walking with them, they fawned over you like you were nothing they had ever seen before. Your laugh was like - it was like fresh air.’

‘And why does this make you sad?’ He did not answer. ‘Draco - you know how close I am with them. That’s something I have built over seven years, one of them spent in incredibly close quarters.’

‘I am not jealous over the way you are with them.’ he said, trying hard to explain it to her. ‘It was a pleasure to see you like that. I just feel - after what they said about the ministry - that you aren’t going to be free with me.’ His voice was soft and small, very un-Malfoy. His eyes were pleading with her on a level she had not experienced before. 

‘I am more free with you than I am with anyone else. How much more free could I be?’

‘The burden of being with me is going to get too much one day - you are going to wake up and realise that the death threats, the attempts on my life, even the dirty looks in the street are going to get too much for you. You are going to want out!’

His eyes were closed as if he could not bear to look at her when she said it. Hearing his words made the weight in her chest almost unbearable, like he was breaking in front of her. It was almost too much to take, so she leant forward and kissed him - hard. It had meant to be for reassurance because she knew that she would not accept what others thought about her, about them - she never had. But the kiss quickly turned rough as he slid a hand possessively into her hair and swiped his tongue across her bottom lip. When she managed to break away to look at him, they were both breathing heavily and their eyes were dark with lust.

‘I don’t ever want an out!’ she said, pushing him onto his back and climbing on top and placing her hands on his chest for balance, his had come to rest on her hips.. ‘There will never be a day when I can’t get enough of this, enough of you, enough of us!’

She caught his lips again, more than before and ground down onto him when she heard a moan catch in his throat. She pulled away, smiling, before she started to trail kisses across his jaw and down his neck. He always tasted of something sweet that she couldn’t name, something luxurious and purely him. As she kissed and nipped as his skin, his hands had resumed to bury themselves in her hair, tangling themselves in her thick curls as small panting breaths had started to rise through his lips.

She lowered herself down his body, absently swirling her tongue over his nipple as she passed it and smiled against him when she heard him make a noise that sounded like the delicious combination of a laugh and a groan. She kissed and licked over his silvery scars, nipped at the flesh above his prominent hip bone and dragged her fingertips across the space where his hips met the waistband of his boxer shorts, grazing the small line of blonde hair that resided there. She shot a look up to him to find him watching her intently, his lips softly parted and his eyes wide and dark. Hooking her fingers under the waistband, he lifted his hips lightly to help, she pulled his boxers sharply down. His erection sprang out and she slowly bit her lip with a smirk. 

Hermione swallowed hard as she moved closer, only feeling a little sprinkle of nerves in her chest as she drank in the sight of him. It wasn’t that she was unsure what to do, or that she didn’t want to do it - she did, but in all their encounters she had not had a chance to work over this skill. She had tried, had worked her way down his body countless times, worshipping his gorgeous skin was something she might even now consider a hobby. But every time she had got this far, he had all but tackled her into submission, burying himself in her with a need she understood. But this time, she was fully clothed and knew he would have difficulty complying to his usual behaviour, and the way he looked right now, she did not want to do anything else.

She moved only slightly and wrapped her lips over him, swirling around the tip and tasting the soft saltiness of his precum.

‘Fuck….’ he moaned, his hips thrusting a little off the bed, his hand ghosting the tendrils of hair by her ear.

Urged by his instant reaction, she worked her lips over him, one hand grabbing him by the base and meeting her with every thrust he made. It was an odd sensation; feeling him like this, hearing the godly sounds he made, tasting him - but she could feel her own stomach tightening as she watched him, feel the inside of her thighs grow tense and damp. She had once heard from the girls in the dormitory that this was something that wasn’t for girls pleasure, just something that you did and that they wanted. But this was nothing like that; her clit was throbbing as she ran her free hand up his thigh, the smattering of hair tickling her palm as she grabbed him and slipped it up to rest at his hip.

Hermione could feel the sweat start to trickle down the back of her neck as he grabbed her again, one hand moving between twisting in the bedsheets and the nape of her neck, the other skimming along her jawline. 

‘Hermione…,’ he moaned again, but she did not need that to tell her he was close. His hips were thrusting harder now, her mouth doing all she could to accommodate him, her own body hot and needy as she pressed her own thighs together. From his lips began to fall hundreds of expletives and sweet words and she looked up to see his eyes clenched shut as her tongue swept the vein along his shaft. 

‘Hermione - I’m going to -’ but she did not stop. As if determined not to fail at something, she inexplicably picked up the pace, her head moving up and down to work him, pulling him to the edge of oblivion. If it was possible, he grew even harder against her tongue and as he grabbed her hand that rested on him, the most delicious sound she had ever heard left his mouth. The sensations were almost too much for her, the sound of him, the tightness of his fingers on the back of her hand, and the warmth now running down her throat; she almost came herself.

Pulling herself up gingerly, she collapsed next to him, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. She swept her eyes over him as she moved; his chest was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, his hair swept across his pillow and forehead as if he were a priceless painting, his eyelashes closed and fluttering against his impossibly high cheekbones. He was true art.

‘You  _ are _ good at everything!’ he chuckled softly, pulling her to him and placing a wet kiss on her lips.

‘Well, someone had to be,’ she smiled back and his hands started to move over her body, tucking into her bottoms. When he reached her centre, finding her more than ready for him, he raised his eyebrows and smirked.

‘Let me help you there Miss Granger,’ 

  
  


‘Hermione have you seen this?’ she heard a shout from down in the common room. 

She groaned into the pillow below her, turning and dragging the covers over her head. She could hear the shower running in the background, Draco had left a little while ago to ‘freshen up.’ 

‘Hermione!’ now came a rapping on the door.

‘Ginny! Go away!’ she moaned, only knowing that the red-head was about to make an entrance.

And an entrance she made. She kicked open the door, not that it was necessary as the door was not locked, and smirked at Hermione, whose face could be seen through a crack in the duvet. She was dressed for the weekend; a pair of low rise jeans and a lilac hoodie, clutching a croissant in one hand the Daily Prophet in the other. She took in the sight of the room as she walked over and slumped down on the bed next to her friend.

Good Morning to you too Hermione!’ she said brightly. ‘You look..pleasured!’

Hermione reached out and punched her friend's leg, earning a slight grunt of displeasure and the prophet being flung at her head.

‘You need to read this,’ she said, thrusting the paper under her nose and Hermione saw herself staring back.

GOLDEN TRIO LOVE SQUARE

HAS OUR GOLDEN GIRL FALLEN FOR A DARK PRINCE?

Hermione sighed as she took in the images that were plastered all over the front page. The first was of her, Harry and Ron walking hand in hand down the Hogsmeade High Street laughing and talking, the second a picture of Draco walking behind them eyeing the three of them up and the third, larger than the rest, was a picture of her and Draco kissing.

This had happened after they had said goodbye outside of Gladrags WizardWear and headed off back towards the castle. Draco had pulled her into an alleyway and pushed her up against the wall, her hands buried in his hair as he kissed the life from her. And that was what the photograph showed the whole wizarding world.

‘If you think that’s bad you should read it!’ Ginny laughed, looking over her shoulder.

‘ _ Hermione Granger, decorated War Heroine and best friend of the Chosen One, was seen this weekend at Hogsmeade Village. Granger, who has decided to return to Hogwarts for her final year of study, was spotted with the rest of the Golden Trio as they made their way down the street, no doubt reminiscing over the war they have endured. _

_ But, dear readers, our Golden Girl is not really who she seems to be. Granger was caught, not an hour after being dragged into an alleyway with none other than named and cleared Death Eater, Draco Malfoy. As a shock as this may come to you, it has always been clear to me that Miss Granger is a renowned fame and glory hunter. He relationships with both Mr Potter and Mr Weasley are well known, as well as her tryst with the famous Bulgarian bon-bon Viktor Krum.  _

_ Dear readers, I can only hope that the two thirds of the trio who have any sense left will have a serious discussion with Miss Granger over her weekend habits and, hopefully, advise her to get a check-up at the nearest health station. More on this story on Page 3…’ _

Hermione chucked the paper across the room and screamed into a pillow. If she knew anything in this world, it was that Rita Skeeter was nothing more than a disease that this world needed to be rid of. Unfortunately, it would seem, she had been too lenient on the woman.

_ Hermione held the jar up to her face and observed the creature she had caught, a small black beetle with red markings around the eye. It was unmistakable and she thought to herself how silly she was to have let this idea pass her this whole time. _

_ Animagi were not new to Hermione thanks to Professor McGonagall, but the idea of being an unregistered one was recently discovered. In fact, Hermione had become well acquainted with one over the past year thanks to Harry's godfather, Sirius. It was he who had planted the idea in her mind about Rita when they had last spoken in the cave behind Hogsmeade, about people not being who they first appear. It had struck a chord with her, especially seeing as this particular person had had it out for Hermione all year. _

_ ‘So Rita, I have a bone to pick with you.’ she sneered. _

_ If anyone were to enter the dormitory now, they would see her talking to a jar with a beetle in it. She knew Hogwarts was strange, but she doubted that even Loony Lovegood would be caught dead talking to insects. But, if anyone else were to look close enough, they would see that the beetle had turned to face her and was not intently listening to what Hermione had to say. _

_ ‘I am sure that if I were to pay the ministry a little visit today and check the Animagus records, your name would not appear there. As well as that, I am sure they would be overjoyed to learn about your special skill and how you have been using it.’ _

_ It was at this moment that the beetle, Rita, started to frantically move around the jar, climbing and struggling against the slippery glass and banging her head. Hermione was not a bug expert, but she knew enough to understand that this was not usual behaviour. _

_ ‘I am going to make this really clear, so you had best stop scuttling around,’ she said, feeling dar braver than she felt. This was an adult she was speaking to after all. ‘I will only release you and allow you to change back if you can promise me that you will quit your job and never write for the Daily Prophet again. As well as this, you are NEVER to write about me, Harry or any of our friends ever again without my express permission. Is that clear?’ _

_ It had only just occurred to Hermione that she was unsure how Rita would be able to tell her, and the fact that the bug was not sitting completely still in the middle of the jar did not bode well. She had all about given up on this when the bug moved to the jar and started to move her head, causing a strange slime to emit and move on the glass. When Rita moved away, the slime was legible, a clear Yes. _

_ Smiling to herself, Hermione left the dormitory, bringing the jar with her and walked through the school. No one stopped her to speak, everyone was in such a strange mood after the event, she could even see a group of Hufflepuff’s crying in the corner of the entrance hall. She tried to drag her head away from that, at the moment she was too busy with this, too worried about Harry to even contemplate what this might mean for all their futures.  _

_ Out on the grass, the sun beamed down on them and, as she rounded the school bringing them to a quiet place, she sighed at the sight of the glorious sky on such a gloomy day. Placing the jar on the floor she spoke. _

_ ‘Remember what I said Skeeter, I will reveal you for who you really are if you go back on this deal. I think I trust we have an understanding.’ _

_ And with that she removed the lid of the jar and watched as the beetle flew out. Despite her feelings towards the woman, it was beautiful magic to watch, observing as her body changed and morphed into the woman she had so longed to punch in the face. _

_ ‘Miss Granger,’ came the high pitched voice of Rita Skeeter. ‘I hope you understand that..that…’ she trailed off as she looked at Hermione’s face. _

_ ‘Miss Skeeter, I hope you understand that I am not joking and will go to the ends of the earth to protect those I love.’ _

_ And with that she turned on her heel, not needing to look back over her shoulder at the woman dressed in acid green. She was sure that they would indeed meet again, for what she did not know, but maybe she would come in handy. _

  
  


‘What’s all the noise?’ Draco asked as he sauntered in wearing sweatpants and a gray t-shirt, towelling his hair. ‘Ah, Miss Weasley, what an unpleasant surprise.’ he drawled.

Ginny rose from the bed and walked over to the paper, lifting it and throwing it over to Draco. Hermione watched as he opened it up and looked over the images, his eyes slowly drawing across each line of text - he even flipped to page 3. The only movement he made was the small lip curl before he sat the paper back on the edge of the bed. Looking between the two women, he sighed, ran his hand through his hair, drying it as he went and shrugged.

‘What?’ Hermione asked, ‘Are you not bothered?’

'She’s only saying what everyone else is going to think. Are you bothered?’ he asked.

‘I just don’t like how she portrays me.’ Hermione huffed.

‘In all fairness Hermione,’ chuckled Ginny. ‘I am also starting to notice a pattern.’

‘Oh shut up Gin!’

‘Look, I have to get to practise in half an hour - I will leave you to talk about this.

She sauntered out of the room as quickly as she had come up, leaving the tornado of her visit in her wake.

‘What’s really bothering you?’ Draco asked as he sat down, not meeting her eye again. She knew what he was thinking - that she was ashamed of him and that she didn’t want people to see her like that. She reached over and took his hand.

‘I wanted to announce it properly. Now it looks like we have been sneaking around.’ she sighed.

‘Announce it properly ey?’ he asked her, a grin across his face. ‘Wanted it to be released in the society pages? I can see your headline now ‘QUAINT RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN GRANG ER AND MALFOY OFFICIAL’ he laughed.

She threw a pillow at him, but could not help but laugh as he climbed on top of her and proceeded to make his most recent shower redundant.

* * *

Notes - Hello all my gorgeous people. I know it had taken me so much longer than all my other chapters to get this one to you and for that I can only apologise. I had the most crazy writers block, lost myself in other fan fiction, recently found tumblr and about just went crazy over day 49 in lockdown. 

This chapter is much longer than usual but I wanted to give you something a bit different from Danger Danger that we have been having the last few chapters. I hope you enjoyed a new chapter in the older Dramione lives, the speculation, the intruige, the sexy moments and the return of an old rival. Please let me know what you think!


	20. Chapter 20

Hermione stormed through her office in a whirlwind, collecting her things and slamming around as she went. She knew she was making a lot of noise and the other offices on this floor could hear her, but they had seen her like this many times before. She could see Alice, her assistant, sitting nervously on the edge of her desk where she had perched herself after standing when Hermione had rounded the corner. She had to think that Alice probably heard her half way down the corridor, the way in which her heels had met the stone floor. Hermione was by no means a horrible boss and had never shouted at her, but Alice knew what Hermione was capable of thanks to the old stories and so liked to keep her distance when something had upset her. Outside the room, she waited for Hermione to come to the office door before speaking.

‘Any papers for me Mrs Malfoy?’ she asked in a timid voice as Hermione came to her office door.

‘Sorry Alice,’ she huffed, trying to push down the heat rising within her chest. ‘If you can just look over the Troll Legislation that I have placed on my desk, it’s due on Monday and I would love it ready to go before then. You can go once that is finished.’

She walked through the green tiles corridors of the DMLE, passing people moving in the opposite direction. Some were giving her smiles, some strange looks, some younger ministers giving her a wide berth. She looked at her watch and noticed that she was leaving half an hour earlier that usual, most people of this floor were still headed towards the final meeting of the Wizenagamot that day - but she knew she was not needed and, to be honest with herself, she did not want to stay any longer. She could not bear to go back into the courtroom and look upon the old faces once again, not after this afternoon’s disaster.

As she stepped into the gold grated elevator, she leaned against the wall and rested each foot up to take the stress off her toes and sighed. She had been back at the office for a month now, relishing every day of being able to slide through the office and make a real difference, but today had been truly awful. 

This morning she had been late into the office due to an explosion in the Atrium, one that no-one in the DMLE had been allowed to know about. The Unspeakables had been brought in to stall all colleagues and had refused Hermione any information. By the time she had made it to her desk, a large pile of paperwork already resided there and she was late to her first meeting. Harry had stopped by mid-morning with a coffee and a half-hearted smile as he told that their meeting with Chauncer on the Azkaban Reformation Launch had been delayed another 2 weeks. By lunch she had been ready to tear her hair out when she was hauled into the courtroom for the final push on the Billywig Trading Legislation her team had been working on for the last three years. The approval was not meant to happen until June and so she had been surprised but eager, taking it as an early win as she had run down there. But they had been denied, something about back pay loans and breeder rights. They were back to the drawing board, all because the stiffs on the board did not want to lose money on their Magical Creatures Investments Schemes. She could feel her fists tremble with unbridled rage as she thought about the way Rionach Steward had stroked his beard and told her she was too far ahead of the times to be taken seriously in this matter. 

By the time Hermione got to the floo point, she was fuming; her hair standing on end, her heels aching and breathing hard and heavy. This had happened a few times before in the last stages of Magical Creature Legislation, but nothing to this extent. Hermione remembered very clearly the first one that had been denied after her marriage, when Agilbert Fontaine had sneered at her name written on the parchment or when she had begun to show a year ago and Wilbert Slinkhard had told her that her delicate constitution was affecting her emotional attachment to her work. As it stood, the Wizenagamot was an old men’s club that she could not help but fight every step of the way.

She stepped out of the fire and into her cream living room, ready to scream, but was brought abruptly to a stop when her nostrils were filled with meditteranean spice. In an instant, she was able to catch her breath, close her eyes and ground herself to home. It was as if her whole body gave up and she dropped her bags, kicked off her heels and shrugged her cloak to the sofa, knowing that Draco would reprove her for the mess she made later. She padded softly to the source of the smell and stopped dead as she reached the kitchen.

Draco stood over the hob, wooden spoon in hand, tasting his concoction for that evening's dinner. Hermione’s mouth was dry as she scanned his barefoot form clad in black jeans and a white untucked shirt, his hair slightly wavy from where he had let it naturally dry. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled to the elbow, and she had the strange desire to lick along his forearms. He was the image of domesticity, and her knees were weak from the beautiful silence in which he worked.

‘Bad day?’ he asked, turning around and smirking as he saw the look on her face. She shook her head and walked towards him, placing a kiss on his lips before pulling herself to sit on the kitchen island.

‘The worst,’ she smiled as he poured her a glass of red wine, placing it in her hand and stroking her hair. She sunk into his palm as she took a sip; Bordeaux, fine vintage, cherries; swiping out her tongue across her bottom lip to savour the sweetness and catching the glint in his eye as she did so. ‘‘Did Scorpius get off okay?’ she asked.

‘Yeah - I dropped him off about an hour ago. Harry and Ron were thrilled to see him - they said they would drop by if anything happened. Harry told me that your meeting moved.’

‘That’s not even the half of it. What’s for dinner?’

‘Taste for yourself,’ he said, turning around and taking the wooden spoon back out of the pot and pressing it against her eager mouth. Her tongue darted out against the warm liquid and felt her spine tingle as memories of their honeymoon on the coast of Italy flashed through her mind. The sun beating down on the back of their necks, the warm breeze of evenings on the beach, the sticky nights of fingers and mouths.

‘That good?’ he questioned her and she smiled, watching him turn away and back to the hob.

She loved him like this, easy and gentle - all sharp edges of dark stain oak removed, worn away from years of worry and angst. Now he was a soft and supple pine, light and fragrant. In that moment, she needed him, needed some comfort after the day from hell. Falling silently from the counter, she took the two steps to push her body against his back, curling her arms around him until her hand rested against his chest and burying her nose into his shirt. He immediately sighed into her, dropping his wooden spoon and moving both hands to rest over hers. She could feel his heartbeat against her fingertips, the intimacy of the moment quickening it slightly.

‘It was a terrible day,’ she mumbled into him, her voice audibly broken.

And before she could say any more, he had turned, lifted her back to the counter. Folding his lips over hers, he began to work on helping her forget everything she ever knew.

  
  


* * *

‘And so at the moment we are aware of his consistent presence in three distinct locations, but with what happened last time I do not think that we are able to attack.’ Dawlish finished telling the Order members who were sitting around the kitchen table.

Just as Harry had predicted, both herself and Draco had been called to the meeting only a week after their meeting with Harry, a week since the infamous Prophet article had been released. As most of the school had already realised what was going on, the backlash from pupils had been minimal and Hermione knew that anything out of control, she could deal with swiftly. Being Head Boy and Head Girl had meant that they were able to deal with the situation effectively. The both of them had, however, been hauled into McGonagall’s office to have a ‘chat’ about it and to inform them that she was observing their post. At first, Draco had been reluctant to allow this to happen, something about his important privacy - but then the headmistressess mentioned the attempted murder and Hermione had insisted that it was the right thing to do, and Draco has backed down. She was all too aware of how hate mail could be used against people, remembering Bubotuber Pus in an all too friendly looking envelope.

It was actually the reaction of the Order Members that she was most worried about, mostly due to the fact that the majority of them were her family and she had not been able to tell them herself. They had all, of course, accepted Draco as an Order Member more or less; but sitting with him in a meeting and going on missions with him was not the same as seeing them make out with your surrogate sister/daughter in an alleyway. She had made it clear to Draco that displays of affection were off limits and, to give him his due, he had listened to her and was currently sat opposite her, next to Harry. Hermione had noted that Harry kept throwing Draco a strange look, his eyebrows wiggling as he did so that she was vowing to hex him for after the meeting. 

‘When do you think it’s likely that an attack could be planned John?’ Arthur asked from his place, Molly nodding along as he asked.

‘At the moment Dad, it’s unlikely we will have the resources or that Kingsley will be able to allow us to do another attack off record,’ Ron explained calmly.

Ron sat on the other side of Harry, lazing back in his chair with his arms crossed. Training had suited Ron, it became him; the new shoulder muscles, the sun-kissed freckles from stake out and the easy confidence with which he was able to assess a meeting. He had never been like this in the tent. Harry and Hermione had always been the ones to take charge while he would chip in. She watched the two of them carefully throughout the meeting, to see if there was any change in the way they were with each other around others; but there was nothing. She laughed internally, what had she expected? Snogging in the middle of a meeting? A full page article about their relationship in the Prophet - they were not stupid enough for that.

‘Besides, at this point he is expecting another attack. I don’t think a head on is going to be our best option next time,’ Ron finished.

‘I agree with Ron,’ Harry chipped in throwing a smile his way. ‘Greyback is all about the element of surprise. We are going to need to work another angle. Any information from Azkaban?’ Harry shot at Dawlish.

‘Nothing, none of our convicted DE’s are willing to give any information - or see anyone for that matter. Malfoy, I saw your name on the visitation list when I was there last week.’ It was more a question than a comment.

‘I went to see my father,’ Draco replied in a clipped tone. Hermione could see Dawlish narrow his eyes, but shook it off.

‘As always,’ Dawlish said ‘Keep looking for suspicious activity, especially within the ministry. We have reason to believe that the werewolf knew our last attack was happening.’

‘What makes you say that?’ asked George.

Hermione looked over the one-time twin and it almost shocked her how much he was the shadow of his former self. His eyes were more sunk in than they used to be, his once bright orange hair was dull and almost brittle. He was still well built, tall and healthy looking, but it was as if a part of him was missing. Hermione already knew he could no longer make a Patronus; Ron had let it slip when they all had a bit too much to drink on one of his lets remember the war days.

‘No one other than the people at this table and Kingsley were meant to know, the tracker charms had said it was just Greyback in the house. But we arrive and suddenly there are 10 other low-level DE’s hanging around. There is no way there wasn’t a leak.’ Hermione noticed how his eyes settled over to Draco as he spoke, it did not really sit well with her. She knew that Dawlish trusted Draco; he wouldn’t have let him do the mission if he had any doubts, but there was always going to be something that drew them to Draco when he mentioned a breach in the facility.

‘What about what’s happening at Hogwarts?’ Hermione asked, her voice more level than she thought it would be. It was her first words of the meeting and a few faces turned to her confused.

‘What’s happening?’ Molly asked, an immediate flicker of fear in her voice. She had been one of the many people opposed to her youngest returning to the castle. She knew that it was safer now than it had been over the past few years, but Hermione could understand the notion to not want to let go of someone after everything that had happened.

‘Don’t you know?’ Hermione asked.

‘Ginny hasn’t said anything,’ Arthur started but trailed off at the look Harry gave him.

‘I wrote to her, told her to keep it on the quiet side. We really don’t want anything else going to the papers.’ He said lifting his eyebrows at her.

‘There have been a few attempts at life this year. The first a poisoned chalice at the Gryffindor table and the second, a deliberate explosion of a Draught of the Living Death.Two students were injured, one in a serious condition in St Mungo’s Poison Ward.’ Harry explained to them.

‘So we get someone in there, on the inside, tracking movement and protecting those that are targeted,’ said George forcefully.

‘Usually I would agree,’ he said. ‘But when the targets are Hermione and Malfoy - the situation gets a little bit more suspicious. We can’t have bodyguards following around the Head Boy and Head Girl and cause mass panic, the students are already on edge as it is this year.’

Hermione met Draco’s eyes and she could tell he was on edge, his jaw tense as he bit on the inside of his cheek.

‘Is this because of the Prophet?’ asked Mrs Weasley.

And there it was, their situation officially brought up in the middle of an Order Meeting. Hermione would feel her insides grow tight. The whole table seemed to cringe at the mention of it; Harry and Ron barely holding back sniggers as they covered their mouths with their hands, Draco may have bitten through his cheek muscle and Arthur choked on his tea. 

‘No Molly, this was before the article even came out,’ Harry sighed, trying to contain his laughter.

‘Potter, I am unsure that these incidents and the leak are even related. For one, you don’t even have a suspect…’

‘What about Parkinson?’ Ron shot up, as did the heads on the rest of the table, Draco looked nervously up at Hermione.

‘Parkinson? As in Pansy Parkinson, niece of the late Ackley Parkinson - noted Death Eater from the first rising?’

‘Yes,’ Draco stated. ‘But I do not think she had anything to do with it. She has no motive.’ Hermione could not help but pick out a slight note of panic in his voice.

‘Hermione?’ asked Dawlish. Hermione looked at Draco and could see his eyes wide, as if begging her not to. But she knew she could not keep this.

‘She has been suspicious since the attack on Greyback and, although she may not be the mastermind behind this, there is something about her that is drawing me to suspect her.’ she took a deep breath. ‘Recently...I heard her talking to someone about attacks and…’

‘And do you know who it was? Did you see them?’ Dawlish asked, clearly eager to get this case closed, but his eyes dropped when she shook her head.

‘I don’t think we can take it further at the moment, not until we have further evidence so…’

‘Sir - ‘ Harry interrupted. ‘I’m sorry but Robards has asked Ron and I to take point on this.’ he said, sitting forward and placing his clasped hands on the table in front of him.

‘Robards? How does the boss know about this?’ he asked slowly.

‘Professor McGonagall contacted him personally after the last attack. He wants us to keep track of activities.’

‘Send you to Hogwarts,’ he asked, scoffing.

‘No Sir, using Hermione and Malfoy as intermediaries.’

Dawlish looked murderously between Harry and Ron and then sighed, clutching his fists and looking around at the rest of the table.

‘If that’s what Robards wants, then that’s what Robards gets. Make sure you check in with Granger and Malfoy before they head back to the school tonight.’

At the end of the meeting, the four of them moved silently around the room. As soon as everyone had left, Harry headed straight to the kettle and Ron moved behind him, whispered something in his ear and moved off to grab a bottle of firewhiskey. Draco paced in front of the fire, sometimes throwing glaring looks at Hermione, who could do nothing but stare at her hands.

‘Have you spoken to Skeeter? Are you going to out her?’ Harry asked as he pulled his tea box from the cupboard.

She had thought about it, adhering to the deal they made and outing her as an unregistered animagus. She would love to get revenge on that woman and seeing her hauled in front of the Wizengamot would be particularly nice to see. But, something in her chest had stopped her, maybe it had been the sight of Harry’s smile when Ron put his lips against his ear, but she knew she had to play her cards close to her chest. Initially, the deal hadn’t been for her, it had been for the people she loved, and if Skeeter got word of Ron and Harry’s...whatever they were to each other...and she had already spilt the beans on her bug life - she wouldn’t be able to bargain for the story.

‘No - there are more important things to deal with right now.’ she sighed.

‘Deal?’ Draco uttered, having stopped his movement.

‘Hermione found out that Rita Skeeter is an unregistred animagus and trapped her in a jar until she promised not to release any more stories on pain of death - or on pain of her secret getting out,’ chuckled Harry. Draco looked vaguely amused and Hermione half expected more questions on the matter, but he seemed to have accepted the strange things that the three of them had been a part of all these years and, again, they fell into silence.

‘Did Robards ask you two to investigate?’ Hermione asked quietly as Harry brought the tray of cups over and set them down.

‘No, he didn’t,’ Harry answered matter-of-factly, sitting down.

‘Why lie about it Potter? Don’t you think Dawlish is going to find out?’ Draco snarled at him.

‘Only people on a mission are allowed to talk about that mission. If Dawlish asked Robards out loud, he would be breaking 3 codes of conduct and Robards wouldn’t even be allowed to answer anyway.’ Ron said as he walked back in, holding the bottle of drink and two glasses. He poured them and shoved one over to Draco, who took it and downed it, passing his glass back for another. ‘I don’t think Dawlish would risk bringing it up. Which I assume is why Harry decided to lie to the Order and a senior agent - without even talking to me about it.’

‘Why Harry?’ Hermione asked, ignoring that Ron had thrown a sugar cube at Harry’s head.

‘Because something is going on, something that needs to be dealt with and we cannot trust anyone but us.’ Harry said as he sipped his tea.

‘Don’t you think that a bit - Golden Trio - of you to say?’ sneered Draco as he looked at Harry. ‘There may be something going on, and believe me that I detest saying this, but there are others we can trust.’

‘Ginny maybe - but I don’t want to risk that. Your two friends Nott and Zabini - yes, but they are out for the count. Can we name any more?’ Harry asked, gesturing towards Draco, who stood silently before slumping in the chair next to the green-eyes man.

‘Are you two coming back at the end of the week to stay?’ Ron asked, changing the subject and downing another firewhiskey.

Hermione made eye contact with Draco, saw him shrug and nod silently.

‘Yes, we will be here.’

  
  


Although there were only four days of classes left before the holiday, Hermione found herself more busy than ever. In between revision for her Newts - which would start a month after the holidays, keeping up correspondence with the boys and organising Prefects, there was little time for other activities. Draco’s Quidditch practises had been upped to two a week due to the upcoming matches when they returned and his insistence that Slytherin would win the cup this year. Not to mention that they were still trying to plan another inter-house unity project on top of her trying not to spy on Pansy Parkinson.

She did not want to obsess over Pansy, knew what it would make her look like to others, knew what Draco would say; but she could not help looking over at her in class and following her with her eyes whenever she caught a glimpse of her black bobbed hair. She could see others getting annoyed with her; Ginny refused to work around her if the name was mentioned, Draco would tense his jaw when Hermione whipped her head around to get a better look, even Neville rolled his eyes when Hermione’s head shot up in the Great Hall when she heard her irritating laugh. She had seen this behaviour before and had always been so upfront about how detestable it was, but she could not help it anymore.

_ ‘Harry, enough now!’ she said, as Harry pulled out the map in front of her to pore over it, slamming down the cover of her book and glaring at him. _

_ He had been like this for weeks now. On the train, when he had suggested that Draco had become a Death Eater, she had found it laughable. Yes, the incident with him stamping on Harry’s nose was bad, but she couldn’t see how the boy had it in him to be recruited by Voldemort. Then the attacks started to happen, and Harry had become even more suspicious of the boy. Now he pulled out his map at every available opportunity to watch the boys movements, it was beyond creepy. Admittedly, she did find Draco’s behaviour this year strange, but, if anything, he spent a lot of time by himself. _

_ She had spoken to Ron about it, who was more worried about Harry’s obsession with his Potions Book and thought it not worth mentioning.  _

_ ‘Harry just likes to obsess over things. Boys...this boy...is a prime Harry target.’ Ron had said while he blushed like a maroon coloured pillowcase. _

_ Hermione had tried to get Ginny to speak to Harry and she thought it had gone well, but apparently she found nothing out of the ordinary in his behaviour. Hermuione knew that Ginny was having boy issues of her own at the moment so she assumed that her senses were off. Eventually it had seemed that his stalking had died down but since the Katie Bell incident, where Harry outright accused Malfoy of cursing the poor girl in front of Snape no-less, he had been unrelenting. _

_ ‘What?’ he shot her a glaring look, his eyes wild and his face suddenly softened as if he had caught himself. _

_ ‘This has gone too far Harry - you are…’ _

_ ‘Obsessed!’ Ron finished for her, opening a chocolate frog and biting down hard. _

_ ‘I am not obsessed! If I was obsessed I would be following him around,’ he said in a hushed tone. _

_ ‘Harry - where were you yesterday evening?’ she asked, but Harry did not meet her eyes. _

_ Hermione knew Harry had gone to follow him. Ron and Ginny had come from Quidditch practice dripping in mud, all windswept and interesting, but Harry had not joined them. According to Ron the next day, Harry had come back very late and looked as sour as he always did. _

_ ‘I went for a walk,’ he said in a small voice. _

_ ‘Harry,’ Hermione said, dropping her tone. ‘I know you want to find out what's going on, but people are going to start to notice that you are keeping tabs on Malfoy. It’s a little….well….it’s odd.’ _

_ ‘What’s odd, Hermione, is that he disappears off the map!’ Harry angrily whispered, throwing the parchment over to her. She scanned it and yes, she could not find Malfoy anywhere. _

_ ‘Maybe the map is lying mate?’ Ron suggested in a friendly tone. _

_ ‘The map never lies,’ Harry and Hermione responded together. _

_ ‘I know it’s suspicious but this one isn’t a mystery for you to solve. I want you focussing on your lessons with Dumbledore. That’s the thing that is going to get us through a war - not being crazy over Malfoy.’ _

_ ‘I heard someone mention it at dinner Harry - they think you’re like...in love with him.’ Ron said in a small voice. _

_ Harry dropped his eyes to his lap where his hands sat, his thumbs twiddling. His chest was moving faster than usual, his jaw tight and clenched. _

_ ‘Harry mate, are you okay?’ Ron asked tentatively.  _

_ ‘Yeah, fine. Just tired!’ he said, rising from his seat and heading to the stairs to go to bed. Hermione looked at Ron reprovingly and rolled her eyes at him.  _

_ She had distinctly seen Harry wipe his nose on his hand as he walked away and resisted the urge to follow him, knowing that he would not speak to her if she did. Ron never seemed to remember how sensitive Harry could be, forgetting how much his life had changed over the last two years. _

_ ‘Why have you got to be so insensitive?’ she snapped. _

_ ‘What?’ Ron looked up from the fire he was staring into, dazed. ‘Did I upset him?’  _

_ She sighed and nodded, noticing the flicker of fear that crosses Ron’s face as he turns his head towards the dormitory stairs. He rises slowly and goes to speak to his best friend and Hermione is alone, staring down at the map. She is poring over the corridors of the castle when she finds him, Malfoy, tucked away in a secluded corner. Just as she had predicted, he was nowhere near any of his fellow Slytherins, no girls hanging around and no bodyguards. She watched as the clock ticked closer and closer to curfew, but he never moved an inch. She knew it would be stupid to confront him, but couldn’t pass up the opportunity to take points away from the blonde snake. _

_ Making her way quickly through the halls, one eye trained on the map to make sure he didn’t move, she made her way to the fourth floor. There were no torches at this end of the castle and there was a chill that rolled across the floor making her shiver, she suspected there was a broken window nearby. It was when she got within three feet of his hiding place that she stopped dead. She could hear sniffling...sobbing….crying - and to her surprise, her heart sank. _

_ Even after everything he had said to her, all the years of torment and hatred, the rivalries and the spite - hearing crying coming from Draco Malfoy hit her hard. At that moment she decided that taking points would not do anything but make whatever this was worse, so she turned on her heels and made her way back to the common room as fast as possible. Slipping into bed, her mind was racing with thoughts of him and the questions she was burning to ask him. Horribly, the one thing she caught onto as she drifted off was; what would make Draco Malfoy that upset? There was only one person she could think of and the idea that Harry may be right after all struck her like a punch. _

  
  


Hermione was in Ancient Runes when she received a note telling her that Blaise had woken up and that she would be able to visit after classes that day. She walked out of the door of her last lesson on the day to find Draco standing poised against the opposite wall. Grabbing her hand, he walked them straight to the hospital wing. They were desperate to ask him about anything he had seen, but when they got there were greeted with another friendly face. Hermione smiled at the sight of Ginny sitting with Blaise, their hands linked together firmly. If anything it made Blaise, who would often look like a beautiful museum statue, seem almost human. She kept her thought to herself but knew that Blaise would only take it as a compliment.

‘What are you doing here Weasley?’ Draco asked upon catching sight of her sitting on the bed next to Blaise.

‘Nice to see you too Draco, this one was just helping me recover.’ Blaise smiled, Hermione noticing how he squeezed her hand as he spoke.

‘I see your charm hasn’t been injured,’ Hermione smiled as she stood by him and beamed at the look on her friends face. 

‘Charm? More like vomit inducing drivel,’ laughed Draco as he propped himself on the end of the bed.

‘How are you feeling?’ Hermione asked.

‘Honestly - I feel absolutely fine. I was really groggy when I woke up but Madam Pomphrey says that was to be expected as I had been asleep for over a week. They have checked me over and the lasting effects should be little to none. Have we heard about Theo?’

All three of them shook their heads. Hermione had been getting progressively more worried about Theodore Nott as the weeks dragged on. Professor McGonagall was no longer giving them updates, telling them that they needed to focus on themselves at this time. Harry and Ron had only been able to pop back to the hospital once to ‘investigate’ but he was still out cold and they were no closer to finding the poison than before. More worrying, however, was that Draco hadn’t talked about him, or the incident - or any of the incidents at all. She knew that over the years, Theo and Draco had gone in different directions over the Dark Mark and that it had caused a rift in their friendship. But Hermione knew how much Theo meant to Draco. 

‘I’m going to be in London over Easter - so I was going to go to Mungo’s to sit with him’ Hermione said softly.

‘Are you going too?’ Blaise asked Draco.

‘To London? Yeah.’ Draco said, fiddling with the blanket on Blaise’ bed.

‘No - to see Theo!’ Blaise pushed.

‘Maybe…’ Hermione shot him a look but he ignored it.

‘Are you staying with Harry?’ Ginny asked, clearly trying to get away from that awkward answer.

‘Yeah...and Ron!’ she answered.

  
  


As she packed a bag up to take with her Grimmauld, she couldn't help but feel relieved that she would not be in the castle for two weeks. It filled her with a sense of sorrow that she felt this way about Hogwarts now, her once safe space, but this castle didn’t seem to hold the same draw for her now. Especially since, over the last few months, she seemed to be on edge everywhere she went. She knew that taking Draco to Grimmauld was not always going to be the easiest option, what with the boys and his ongoing...whatever it was that Ron thought...but being there was safe. Pansy could not get to them, only people on the network had access and it would just be them again.

After the war, everyone had wanted a piece of them, a smile, a look, a quote, a story - it had been...overwhelming. Even going to The Burrow had been particularly hard and, although the time they had spent there was filled with love and supported grief, it had been stifling. The three of them had spent so much time in only each other's company, that the extended presence of others that started to feel invasive. When the boys had moved to Grimmauld, it had been the first time she knew they had all felt calm again. Coming back to Hogwarts had been fantastic, it was what she wanted and would not regret it; but Hermione knew that the small company of the three boys would be more than adequate.

She went through the list of things she needed to pack and realised that she had left a book in Draco’s room. She walked through the bathroom absent mindedly and through his door, talking to him.

‘Draco, have to seen my….’ she trailed off when she looked up and saw no one there, just his open bag on his bed. Frowning she resigned herself to find it.

Walking around the room and looking on the side tables and the chairs, Hermione became frustrated when she could not find it. It was the one book that she was going to need to complete her homework and she was under the impression that he had tidied it away. This meant that it was going to be lost forever as Malfoy was a particularly good cleaner, but did not have a good memory for the things he tidied. As she dropped to her knees to look under her bed, something caught her eye in the top of his open bag. A medium sized jewellery box.

Now, Hermione was not one to snoop around and, frankly, she didn’t care what was in the box. But, there was something so familiar about the box that it drew her eyebrows together and her hand towards it. Then it started, a soft humming sound that echoed against her ears and made her heart beat that little bit faster. She knew that if she could just reach out her hand a little bit more she would be able to open the box.

‘What are you doing?’ Draco asked from the door and she jumped as if electrocuted.

‘I was….looking for that book… for Professor Vector’s homework. I thought I left it in here, have you seen it?’ she was slow on the uptake, her eyes forced to stare at Draco, even though she wanted to hear the humming of the box again.

‘It’s next to the fireplace downstairs. If you are all packed, do you want me to meet you down there with the bags?’ he asked, his forehead wrinkled with suspicion.

‘Yes please!’ she smiled, her feets carrying her towards him. She moved onto her toes to plant a kiss on his cheek, which relaxed his face and she moved to the common room.

It was where he had said it would be, placed neatly on the top of a pile of homework by the fireplace. She could have sworn she had fallen asleep reading it a few nights ago, but it was placed neatly right in front of her. She shook her head, trying to get her mind of the package from Draco’s bag, trying to convince herself that it was nothing. Her chest fluttered slightly as she thought about the deep emerald colour of the box, wondering what such a lovely crushed velvet box could be doing in Draco’s bag. The rationalist in her was trying to push it to the back of her mind, trying to calm her breathing and tell her that it meant nothing. But a small part of her; the part that fluttered her eyes closed whenever Draco kissed her, the part of her that loved to watch him sleep, told her that it must be something special.

She was so distracted that she had not realised she was staring into the empty hearth of the fire. No - she was staring at a piece of paper in the empty hearth of the fire. It had no been cleared out from last night and clearly someone had wanted to get rid of something. She turned her head back to the stairs, but Draco was not there yet so she took her chance. Grabbing the small parchment she realised it was torn and burnt along the edges, this was not the whole message, but the words laid upon it sent chills down her spine. ‘ _...I will tell her what you did. I will tell everyone!’ _

‘Are you sure you are okay Granger?’

She spun around, tucking the note into her pockets and seeing Draco standing there.

‘What?’ she asked, in a tone that did not spell calm at all.

‘This is the second time I have caught you staring into space.’ He put their bags down the couch and walked over to her, his hand moving up to cup her cheek. He looked right into her eyes and she could feel her heart thumping against her chest. ‘Are you alright?’

She was a Gryffindor, she could summon up all her courage to ask him about the note; the courage to question him...again. A slow sinking feeling settled upon her as she looked at him, his warm hand placed on her, his thumb slowly brushing against her cheekbone, his words of their last fight playing in her mind - ‘ _ will there ever be a moment that you won’t question this’. _

‘I guess I just need an early night,’ she swallowed and forced a smile.

* * *

Notes: Thank you to everyone who is being so supportive of this story - I am having so many wonderful conversations with so many people! Please keep the comments coming! Shannona XxX


	21. Chapter 21

‘And then, Mummy said  _ you foul, loathsome, evil little cockroach  _ and pointed her wand at daddy’s throat but Uncle Ron and Uncle Harry told her that I wasn’t worth it. Between you and me little dragon, they might have been right. But then mummy pulled back and slapped daddy round the face. I am pretty sure I can still feel it on really still nights.’

Hermione, who had been standing still and silent for the duration of her husband's tale could not help but snort at this. Draco whipped his head round from where he lay to glare at her for interrupting the privacy of his moment.

‘Would you like to get a word in mummy?’ he asked her. 

He was laying on his stomach on a chequered blanket, inset on the grass. Scorpius was sprawled out next to him, changing position from lying to sitting; his new favourite trick. She had been listening for a while, abandoning her weekend chores when she spied them out of the upstairs window. 

‘Just that every word is completely true. Other than that daddy was worth it...in the end.’ she laughed. 

Scorpius heard her voice and turned his head, flashing her a dazzling smile in the process, stretching out his chubby hands towards her. She moved towards him, smiling as she lowered herself to the blanket, drawing his hands to her mouth and smothering them in kisses. Scorpius threw back his head, giggling, his face filled with delight. She heard Draco laughing as he laid back down, resting his head on her lap. 

It sometimes hit Hermione, a lump forming in her throat, that she was lucky to have gained a life like the one she lives now. She remembered a time, not really that long ago in the grand scheme of things, where she thought this kind of existence impossible. A time where the best they had been able to come up with was to stay in a snow covered forest and grow old, hiding from the world and refusing to solve its problems. If she could have dreamed this life for herself as she had sat there with her best friend opposite her, she would have been able to tell him that it would all get better. She would have been able to give him a hope that they had longed for in those dark moments, away from the need to just keep moving because it was right.

The feeling caught her in small moments; in the laugh of their child, in the look of her friends and family, in the moments when she would freefall wrapped in his embrace. This was one of those moments, feeling Draco’s hair tickle the skin on her knee and Scorpius grabbing at the hem of her dress.

‘What a beautiful display of domesticity!’ she heard behind her, turning her head she saw Harry leaning against, his arms crossed and a smile gracing his soft features.

‘Yeah, trying to get that translucent skin tanned are we Malfoy?’ Ron laughed as he stepped through the kitchen door carrying, what looked liked, a grate of elvish wine.

‘Invasion of the Golden Trio!’ Draco mock screamed as he sat up, turning to Scorpius. ‘Save yourself dragon - I will hold them off for as long as I can!’ he laughed, wiggling his 

finger on his cheek. Rising from the floor, he swiped a kiss on the top of her head and moved towards the boys.

‘Tea?’ he asked as he approached Harry.

‘No way - I brought wine!’ Ron smiled.

‘Wine glasses it is then,’ he said, laying a hand on Harry’s shoulder as he spoke. Hermione watched as Harry tapped Draco’s forearm before moving off to the kitchen door. As he got there, Ron clapped him on the back and smiled.

Hermione swallowed yet another lump that way forming. Over the past few years, the four of them had become much better at communication and, it would seem, that a baby was the final gate that stood in the way of the boys accepting Draco. It had been small and almost unnoticeable. Ron had stopped calling him a git and had once even used his first name in a conversation. Harry had invited Draco to drinks at their house - without Hermione. Draco had come back, his face plastered in a rare smile as he spilt sweet nothings from his lips and staggered towards her.

‘And how goes my little snake?’ Harry asked, sitting on the blanket and pulling Scorpius to him when he raised his chubby arms up.

‘He is great Harry - although I am not sure that snake is a very affectionate term!’ Hermione said,

‘Course it is. Harry loves speaking to snakes!’ Ron laughed as he settled down too.

‘So, please tell us - what is the occasion for your lovely visit. And why are we drinking?’ Draco asked.

He handed them all a wine glass and settled himself behind Scorpius, who fell back into his father’s lap, giggling at the faces that Draco made.

‘Well….we wanted you to be the first to know…’Ron started, looking at Harry and grinning from ear to ear.

‘...Ron and I are having a baby!’ Harry finished, biting his lip and looking between the two of them.

Before Draco could even say a word, she leapt across the blanket, throwing herself into their waiting arms and crushing them in a hug.

‘OH! I AM SO HAPPY FOR YOU GUYS!’ she squealed.

Harry and Ron laughed as they took her in their arms. She drew back on her knees looking between the two of them. They were both glowing; Ron’s face a bright maroon, Harry’s eyes a brilliant green.

‘Congratulations!’ Draco said, clapping Harry on the back. ‘How long do we have to wait for a new bouncing baby to join our ever expanding garden crew?’

‘Details please,’ Hermione asked, excitedly tapping them both on the thighs, her eyes wide and sparkling.

‘We have been taking meetings with a surrogacy agent for the last few months, and we met a load of really lovely witches - all confidentially of course,’ said Harry.

‘And yesterday, we met with this lovely woman called Emelie. She’s two years older than us, was in Ravenclaw, and we would be the first couple she has been a surrogate for. She seemed quite keen, but - you know - with the names we carry it can be tough to get a real answer face to face.’ Ron continued, as he spoke his hand was scratching the back of his neck.

‘But, we got a firecall this morning to go to the agency, and they told us that the paperwork had been signed. We start the official process next week!’ Harry started to pour the wine between the four glasses.

‘Well I must say gents, that is the best news I have heard all day!’ Draco smiled, holding out his glass to Harry to be filled.

‘I think it’s amazing!’ Hermione sighed, feeling tears welling in her eyes.

‘We are pretty chuffed about it,’ Ron laughed, pulling Harry towards him and placing a kiss on his temple.

‘Well, this calls for toast.’ Draco said, lifting his glass towards them. ‘To a new member of our beautiful family; baby Potter-Weasley.’

As Hermione watched their glasses join together over her own giggling baby, felt the sweetly sour liquid seep down her throat and watched her best friends and husband 

celebrate in the news, she smiled to herself. Truly, nothing could spoil this moment.

  
  


* * *

‘Your quiet Hermione!’ Harry said across the dinner table. Hermione looked up from her soup to Harry, whose brows were furrowed together in concern.

‘Sorry yeah. I think I’m just a little tired. What are we talking about?’ she asked, avoiding the look that Draco was shooting at her from beside her.

They had arrived at Grimmauld Place only a few hours before and Hermione had not really been able to focus. Harry and Ron had spent a lot of the time telling her all about a new mission that they might be assigned, Dawlish had taken them aside specially to ask if they were alright with taking on two cases at once. Ron had gushed about being important and she had vaguely been aware of Draco rolling his eyes at her ginger friend.

Draco had not brought up their current ‘case’ and so no one had mentioned Pansy or the attacks but Hermione found it on her mind more than usual. While she nodded her head and made committal noises through their conversations, her thoughts were stuck on the small parchment that was burning a hole in her pocket. When the four of them had sat down to dinner, the conversation had turned to Quidditch; which had allowed her to zone out without being noticed and think more about the issue at hand.

‘We were making comments on the new Bulgarian line up.’ Ron said, his brows also close together. ‘We thought you might be interested.’

‘Why?’ asked Hermione, in a dazed voice. Draco gave her a look that asked ‘what is wrong with you?’

‘Because Viktor had been asked to sign a three year Quidditch deal - it’s the first time a player has been asked to make a commitment...ever!’ Harry told her and she smiled.

‘That’s great!’ she said, although not fully committing to the words. ‘I’ll make sure I owl him my congratulations!’

‘You’re still in touch with Viktor Krum?’ Draco asked, as they rose clearing the bowls and glasses from the table.

‘Hermione likes to stay friends with as many people as possible.’ Ron chuckled, flicking his wand at the sink and Hermione watched as the dishes started to wash themselves. ‘Especially people she’s made out with!’ he laughed even harder and Harry hit him over the head.

‘Leave it!’ he chided and Hermione rolled her eyes, shooting Draco an apologetic smile. 

It looked as if he was far too eager to continue the conversation, but before he had time to ask anything, Ron had chimed in again.

‘Malfoy - I hear you are a great chess player…’ Ron trailed off, looking at Harry for what appeared emotional support in this venture.

‘I like to play a fair game!’ Draco said, a half smirk playing on his lips.

‘...want to see if you can beat the person who beat McGonagall’s chess set?’ he asked.

‘Bring it on!’ Draco chuckled and left, heading toward the living room with Ron.

Hermione watched him go, staring at his and Ron’s backs as they went and turned her head back to see Harry staring at her. He breath caught in her throat as she took in his face, her stomach dropping at the questions he was so obviously desperate to ask her.

‘Do you want tea?’ he asked slowly and softly.

Before she could even answer, she felt as if it had become almost impossible to breathe and her vision had started to become obscured by the tears gathering in her eyes.

‘I need the toilet,’ she said quickly, turning and leaving the room.

‘Hermione!’ Harry said after her. She distinctly heard a small ‘fuck’ from him as she exited and made her way to the stairs. From the room opposite, she could hear Ron loudly discussing tactics and Draco scoffing and what he was saying. She took the stairs two at a time and managed to get in the bathroom, door shut and sat on the edge of the claw-footed bathtub before the tears rolled down her face.

There was no sobbing or a silent plea to the ceiling, just heavy tears rolling down her face as she struggled to control her breathing. A familiar tightness across her chest caused her to place her palm to it, and feeling her erratic heartbeat below her fingertips, her brain struggled to control her reaction. She was suddenly felt engulfed in emotion she was so familiar with; how she had felt all those months ago in the library when she had seen Draco at the end of the corridor, how she felt every time she shot awake from a nightmare, how she felt when she saw Harry in Hagrid's arms. She had bundled her hands into fists and shoved them against her eyes, counting to herself while she rocked against the curled edge of the porcelain, when she heard a soft knock on the door.

‘1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8.’ she whispered.

‘Hermione, it’s me,’ came Harry’s voice through the wood.

‘1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8.’ she repeated, trying to calm the erratic breathing she was struggling with.

‘Hermione, are you okay?’ he asked.

‘1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8.’

‘If you don’t want me to come in you are going to have to tell me,’ he said.

‘1,2,3,4,5,6,7,8’

‘Alohamora,’ he muttered, and before she could look up at him, she felt his hands grab at her fists and pull them away from her face.

Her vision, which had been black and dark, was now flooded with light and filled with green eyes and concern.

‘5 things you can see,’ he said quickly.

‘What?’ she asked, her face contorted in confusion and sticky, trying to look anywhere but at him.

‘Tell me 5 things you can see,’ he said again, he put a little pressure on her wrists and her eyes shot to him.

‘Um - toilet roll, tiles, mirror, soap, your foot trying to shut the door so they can’t hear us.’

‘4 things you can touch,’ his face had started to soften and his lips parted softly as he waited. She was able to take a deep breath while she thought. ‘Come on Hermione, 4 things!’

‘The bathtub, the floor, the door, you.’

‘3 things you can hear.’

‘My breathing, my heartbeat, Draco losing to Ron downstairs.’ Harry chuckled at this one, and she smiled, able to relax her face.

‘2 things you can smell.’

‘You, the fact that you don’t clean this bathroom enough.’ Her chest slumped slightly as she caught herself laughing and her fists released.

‘1 thing you can taste.’

‘Blood.’ she sighed, as she realised that she had bit her lip too hard and closed her eyes.

She took a deep breath, and then another and felt Harry draw her hands together in his and brought them to rest against his lips. They stayed like that for a little while, ignoring the slow drip of the tap, or the faint arguing from downstairs. When she eventually opened her eyes and lifted her head, he was still there, sat crossed legged on the floor in front of her and smiling.

‘How did you do that?’ she asked him after what felt like an hour of silence.

‘Ron does it to me sometimes... most of the time…’ he laughed nervously but did not look away from her. ‘It’s meant to help ground you...when things get...too much.’

They fell into silence again as he watched her intently, usually under a gaze like this she would feel awkward. Hell, if Draco was sitting there looking at her like this, she would shy away and become embarrassed - and he had seen her naked. But it was Harry.

‘What becomes too much?’ she asked him, knowing that he would answer her truthfully.

‘Surviving a terrible war that I was not meant to walk away from and adjusting to a seemingly ordinary life for a wizard,’ his face was unreadable as he said it.

‘When does Ron…’

‘Mostly in the middle of the night when I wake up unable to breathe,’ he whispered. ‘You?’

‘When I dream about yellow eyes, when I remember things I had forgotten about, when I see you dead, when...when clues fall into a places I don’t want to go to.’

‘What clues?’ he asked quickly.

Hermione took her hands from his and reached into her pocket, pulling the parchment out and handing it to Harry. He took it and examined the torn yellowing page, front and back, reading the words three or four times, a small crease appearing in his forehead. 

‘Where did you find it?’ he asked.

‘In the fireplace in the Head Common Room.’

‘Do you recognise the writing?’

‘No.’

‘Have you asked him about it?’

‘No’

‘Hermione -’ he started, but broke off. He sighed, shaking his head and looking at the floor.

‘I don’t know what to say to him.’

‘You are not the person who keeps secrets, Hermione. You are the person that takes on an issue head of and does not worry about what people think of her. Why is this any different?’

Their last argument flashed again; the way Draco had looked at her like a small animal she had kicked when it came for comfort. It did strike her that Harry was right - she was never the type of person to let something lie. With Ron and Harry, it was almost a rule that they told each other what was bothering them - after what had happened in the tent and Ron leaving them, the unspoken system had meant that they were able to trust each other implicitly. But it wasn’t as if she was all that honest with others. 

‘He isn’t you or Ron.’ she told him quietly. ‘We have only been friends for 7 months, Harry. We have already had a few arguments about trust and I...I just…’

‘You don’t want it to be over.’ he whispered to her and she felt herself go red. ‘That’s okay to feel that way - hell I know what you mean - and I know it’s different with Ron because he is my best mate - but just give him the benefit of the doubt. If you don’t talk to him, you will end up like this more often.’ he said, gesturing to the bathtub.

‘Yeah - I will win the next one…’ a voice in the corridor outside shouted and, before Hermione would reply or Harry could get off the floor, the bathroom door swung open and Draco stood looking at the two of them. His face glided from Hermione on the edge of the tub, her hands clasped in Harry’s, who was seated before her.

‘Everything okay?’ he asked, a slight laugh in his voice but worry written on his face. Harry quickly got up, brushing himself off as he did and smiled.

‘Yeah - I was just going.’ He looked at Hermione with a face that clearly screamed ‘ask him’ and squeezed past Draco. Hermione took a steady breath and lifted herself from the rub.

‘Potter,’ Draco said, swinging around to speak to Harry who was still giving Hermione the eye over his shoulder. ‘Weasley’s free to beat your ass….at chess!’ 

Hermione slowly pulled herself off the edge of the bathtub and took a deep breath.

‘You don’t have to get up…’Draco started but she interrupted him.

‘Can I talk to you?’ she asked and he nodded, she registered that he looked a little nervous and this shocked Hermione. 

‘I don’t want to fight…’

'Are you breaking up with me?’ Draco asked quickly.

‘What?’ she choked out.

‘Are you breaking up with me in Potter’s bathroom?’ he asked again. ‘Because I have to say that is really not cool...and…’ he was gesticulating wildly and looking around the room.

‘I’m not breaking up with you,’ Hermione answered in a small voice and saw his whole body relax in front of her, taking a step forward and placing a hand on her arm.

‘Hermione, you’re shaking!’ his voice was uneven and she could tell that Draco was struggling to keep himself in check. 

‘I have to ask you something,’ she started, her voice small as she bored her eyes into his. ‘I don’t think you are going to like it and I’m not going to ask you not to get angry. I just need you to understand that I am not bringing this up with some ulterior motive.’

‘Hermione, you’re scaring me.’

Slowly, she unfurled the parchment she had screwed slightly in her hand when he had walked into the room and looked down at it. Hermione knew that Harry was right, she should have trusted her gut instinct earlier and just asked him, she didn’t want to always be scared that he would overreact - if she wanted this relationship to mean something then she would have to deal with the bad. Smoothing the parchment with her thumbs a few times; almost as if she was about to hand over a screaming child, she pushed the paper towards him and winced.

‘Where did you find this?’ he whispered, a pleading look in his eyes.

‘The grate in the common room,’ she answered before quickly adding. ‘I didn’t go looking I sw-’

He placed a cool hand over hers and smiled sadly at her. ‘I didn’t think you had.’ He sighed heavily and looked back down at the burnt writing. She was frozen down to her core; he wasn’t yelling at her, he wasn’t angry, he was just still and waiting as if his brain were ticking over.

‘Is this what you were trying to tell me earlier?’ he asked slowly, she could see his hands were trembling around the small paper.

‘I didn’t want to fight again - I didn’t want you thinking that I was questioning us or…’

And suddenly, one of his hands was gliding across her cheek and his forehead was pressed close to hers. His eyes were closed and he was breathing out through his nose, his soft blonde eyelashes brushing his slightly blushed cheeks.

‘I’m sorry!’ he said. ‘I should have never have said that to you before.’ He opened his eyes and his shocking grey met sultry brown. ‘You can question me as much as you want - I have no right to ask you to explicitly trust me at all times.’

‘Who is the letter from?’ she asked quietly, her stomach a cold stone in her abdomen.

Draco pulled back to full height and looked down at her. ‘My father!’ he said, looking away from her. ‘It would see word got to Azkaban about us - the Prophet apparently had a lot of unsavoury clientele.’

‘And he is threatening you. With what?’ she asked.

‘Empty threats! That’s why I burnt it - I read it, got angry and threw it in the fire.’ he half-smiled and it was not her turn to visibly relax in his arms.

‘I’m sorry I doubted you,’ she said.’

‘Please don’t be sorry, love!’ he said, moving forward and pulling her to his chest.

For a moment, she let herself be pulled to him, feeling his warm chest against the side of her face and his hand slide up her back, the note forgotten and on the floor. Then she stilled, frozen against him as his words sunk in. 

‘Love?’ she pulled back, slowly raising her head and saw his eyes were wide with shock. He had clearly heard his own words at the same time she had.

‘I...I didn’t..can we….forget that I…’

Before he could continue to ramble at her like a teenage schoolboy, she snaked her hand up to the nape of his neck, pulling his face down towards hers for a bruising kiss. At first, he was stiff against her, clearly shocked by her response to what he had said. But Draco quickly softened and melted, pulling her closer and, before long, their kiss had deepened and she could feel his thumbs brushing against her skin just under the hem of her jumper. 

She broke the kiss, pressing her lips close together while she rolled her tongue over her bottom lip. There was still that niggling feeling at the back of her head, and the way he looked at her, his eyes somewhere far away, pressed her.

‘Ask me,’ he said, looking at his feet.

‘Draco is there anything else you need to tell me? Something you have been keeping to yourself.’

‘If anything comes to mind, you will be the first to know.’

‘Malfoy, are we playing or not?’ Ron shouted from downstairs.

‘Raincheck Weasley!’ Draco shouted back as he slipped his hand into hers and pulled her towards the bedroom. As he closed the door behind them, rounding on her like a predatory animal, she heard Ron shouting for them to use a silencing charm.

  
  


She woke up hours later; the sky outside the window is inky black and dotted with white wispy clouds. The moon, which had been in view when they collapsed onto the bed, was not out of sight, so the little light that illuminated the bed came from outside streetlamp. Hermione is unsure what woke her at first, frowning at the cieling she turns her head to the sleeping frame next to her. Draco is silent and still, almost statuesque in his slumber, he had not moved. There was no noise coming from the corridor - Harry and Ron would have gone to sleep a while ago.

She tried to get comfortable again, tried to close her eyes and fall back to sleep; but there was something stopping her. Rising from the bed and slipping her feet into some slippers, she made her way out to the hallway - the house was just as dark here as it had been in the bedroom, but the corridor was cooler. She let the air brush against her upper arms, goosebumps erupting along her skin she lifted her hands to rub against them. She stood, listening to the silence of the house when she felt the first prickle on unease, like something was coming.

Shaking her head, Hermione turned and moved back into the bedroom, silently closing the door behind her. Draco’s pale face was lit up from this angle, his forehead creased slightly and she wondered for a moment if he too could feel it, if he too could sense something coming. It was only when she pushed her hand across her face to try and rid herself of these thoughts, that she heard it, a familiar faint hum. It was high pitched and eerie, sending a shiver up her spine and causing the hairs on the back of her neck to stand up. She slowly dragged her eyes to where she knew the noise was coming from and saw that the inside of Draco’s bag was lit with a faint glow. She cocked her head, but didn’t move, wondering if the noise was in her imagination, if the light was a reflection but before she could think on it, her feet had begun to move.

With her eyes glued to the bag, she took silent and determined steps, unsure of what was moving them as she could feel part of her willing herself to stop and breathe. Hermione knew that the bedroom was not overly large but it seemed to take her an age until she was standing with the edge of her slippers against the bag, her hand reaching down and curling around the crushed velvet lining of the jewellery box. Her mind told her she had time now, time to examine the box in all its glory. The velvet was silky to the touch, the rim of the box soft and curved, forcibly eding her fingers into the crack as she stared, unblinkingly at the box, her breath almost halted completely. It would not take much effort and the box would be open, and that it did with a soft creak and the increase in the volume of the humming.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows at the piece inside of the box. Resting against the black silk lining was a silver necklace with a thin chain and round pendant. The pendant was encrusted with green jewels and they seemed to shine even in the darkness that surrounded her. Hermione felt her jaw tighten as she stared at it. There was a letter etched into the pendant, burning her eyes - the letter p.

‘Granger?’ came a grizzly voice, but it sounded like it was from miles away. Somewhere, her mind screamed for her to turn, to take her eyes off what was in her hand, but she could not find the strength; her eyes drew to it as a werewolf to the moon. 

‘Hermione?’ that soft voice again. Maybe from the corridor, or downstairs, or another life. She could feel that she was holding her breath now, her lungs screaming for a release. She could feel her heartbeat in her temple.

‘What is that?’ the voice was closer, but still distant - maybe they were shouting? But it wasn’t too clear. She was able to release a breath and drag in a long and rattled one, as one of her hands slowly moved from the velvet casing, closing in on the letter p, desperate to feel the pain of the loved letter on her finger.

‘Hermione! Don’t touch that!’

But the lure was too much - before her brain had even registered the shouting male voice, the tip of her finger had brushed against the metal. In an instant, her brain came back to life and screamed at her for being so stupid when the necklace flung out of the box and she felt a searing pain around her throat. She threw herself against the wall, clawing at the chain that was embedding itself around her, struggling to breathe as it tightened around her.

‘HARRY! RON!’ she heard Draco scream and her eyes sought him out to see him struggling off the bed and tearing across the room to her. ‘What is it? Hermione what is it?’ he cried as he brought his hands up to try and pull it from her.

She had started to see black spots around the edges of her eyes, her lungs screaming for air, her heart pumping wildly. The red hot chain was pushing deeper and deeper against her windpipe and both her own and Draco’s nails were digging at it. Her knees began to buckle under her and she slid down the wall and heard a crash as the door was knocked open and the wild faces of Harry and Ron rushed in.

‘Hermione!’ Ron cried and joined Draco on the floor in front of her as her feet kicked out wildly.

‘What happened?’ Harry screamed, and a bright light shot out of his wand and headed out the door.

‘I don’t know!’ Draco cried and looked into her eyes as her vision started to go in and out of focus.

Between the black and the red that had started to overtake her, she could see his eyes glaze over. She focussed in on him, ignoring her screaming lungs, the pounding in her head, the burning on her skin, the shouting of the people that loved her. Hermione knew that if this was it, this was her last moment, she wanted to look at him. Shaking, she pushed her hand to his cheek, feeling the warm under her hand before everything went black.

  
  
  


_ Hermione had now started to lose track of the amount of times she was caught in life-threatening situations. Somewhere in her 16 year old body, she was screaming at herself, furious that she had, once again been led into a situation like this. But a larger person, a better person was kicking that one away - if anything she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Harry had needed help and so here she was. She did not know if she would get out of here alive, but inside her she knew that until the day she died, she would fight for him and for others who needed protection. _

_ ‘Harry, I don’t think you should touch it,’ she had told Harry sharply, as he had reached up to get his hands on the misty globe in the Hall of Prophecy. Of course, he was predestined to touch it; he had told them it had his name on and she had watched as he ignored her and Neville and picked it up. _

_ That was when everything about their illegal ministry break in had taken a dangerous turn. They had seen the black figures emerge from the shadows and her stomach had dropped when the pale face of Lucius Malfoy had demanded the prophecy from Harry. She had watched Harry out of the corner of her eye and had raised her own wand along with him, knowing that this is what their training had led to. _

_ Looking around the circle, she saw Ron, his face sweaty under his shock of red hair. She could see Neville’s hand shaking under the pressure he was putting on his wand, staring intently at the crazed dark haired woman that Lucius had called Bella. Luna and Ginny were looking fierce, arms outstretched and dangerous. Right now, with them, Hermione felt invincible; she knew that they would be able to take them. But looking back on it she was sure she would shake her head and ask what they were thinking? Six teenagers against a band of Death Eaters - their lives hung in the balance. _

_ ‘Now!’ Harry shouted and she found herself casting and running back through the endless corridors of crystal balls. _

_ Hermione could hear shouted spells from all directions, the pounding of her own feet against the grated floor, the panting of Ron;s heavy breath by her side. His elbows were banging into her, the sharp edges hitting her elbows and ribs as he swung around to shoot a blue spark behind them. They both rounded the corner and Hermione glanced behind her to look into the face of a man she had seen plastered all over the wanted posters; Rabastan Lestrange. She could feel the bile rising in her throat as she thought about him and knew that she wanted to curse him for what he did to Neville’s parents. The thought, however, was wiped from her mind when he sent a green curse flying at her, baring missing her nose and exploding behind her. _

_ Ron screamed in rage, turning and shooting a stunning spell and Hermione joined him. By the time they reach the brain room again, he is no longer behind them and she assumes one must have landed on target. _

_ ‘What do we do?’ said Ron, breathing heavily, clutching at his own knees. _

_ ‘Did you see where the other’s went?’ Hermione asked him and grimaced when he shook his head, wiping the sweat of his forehead. _

_ They did not have much time to breathe, however, when another dark figure rounded the corner and they had to jump behind a tank. The yellow and red curses that were thrown around the tank from both her and the figure missed the target every time. The tentacle brain was sloshing around in front of her, impeding a clear shot at who she now saw as Dolahov, the wizard who had murdered the Prewitt’s.  _

_ ‘Impedimenta!’ Hermione called, shooting her wand towards him as she dove across the room and behind a pillar, but he dodged. _

_ She watched in horror as he shot a spell at the tank she had just left. It exploded, water and glass gushing over Ron as he hid behind it. She screamed and shot another array of spells towards the wizard, who was able to block them. From her position, she tried to get a look at Ron and could only look with terror as she saw the brain had wrapped itself around him and he was unconscious. Her breath stilled in her throat as she saw the thing moving along his arms and the slight shake of his head as if he was in immense pain. As her heart beat painfully against her ribs, a thought flashed to the others - what were they doing? Were they okay? Before she could turn to shoot another spell at the dark wizard, she saw a purple light surging towards her and had no time to dodge. Black. _

  
  


Hermione flung herself forward, dragging in air as if she had been drowning, her fingers clawing at her throat. She felt strong, warm arms across her chest as they pulled her fingers away. She tried to scream, shout, anything - but there was no sound. In a panic, she flung her head to the source of the arms and saw warm blue eyes and red hair; Ron.

‘Calm down!’ he was saying, using his strength to push her back to a pillow. She was lying on a white linen bed. ‘Hermione! Relax, you are safe.’ She breathed out through her nose, her chest heaving as she reached up a gentle hand to slide over the skin on her throat.

‘You won’t be able to talk yet - they put a Silencio charm on you to make sure you didn’t hurt yourself any more.’ he said, standing over her and running a large, square hand from her forehead and across the top of her head. The movement was comforting and she felt a well of tears at the feeling.

She slowly looked around the room as he continued his light petting, there was a large window on the other side of the room and the sun was shining bright. She wondered how many days she had been out. Everything was white; white curtains, white linens, white furniture, white hospital pyjamas covering her body.

‘You’re in St Mungo’s,’ Ron muttered softly, taking a seat next to the bed - she assumed this was where he had leapt from before. Hermione looked to the door and furrowed her eyebrows, wondering where the others were. Ron must have sensed this, as he spoke again.

‘They just left about 5 minutes ago to get some tea. They will be back. Let me go and get a Healer for you - they will be able to tell you a little bit more.’

She grabbed onto his wrist as he rose back from the chair. She wanted to tell him what had happened, what she had seen, what she knew before Draco got back. She wanted to ask him what had happened - but she opened and closed her mouth like a fish feeling utterly helpless.

‘We will talk about it!’ he said, leaving the room. She tried to look past the door and into the corridor as he left, but there was only silence past his head.

Like an instinct, she closed her eyes and drew her fingers up once more. The skin was warm to the touch, overly warm, but felt smooth - no cutting or scraping them. She had to admit to herself she wasn’t surprised - even with the chain and the fingers that had dug into her - she was under the impression that magic could heal them. She tried to swallow and found her throat swollen and tender. The sound of the door opening forced her to open her eyes and she saw a Healer walking in, a man with dark brown hair and a light beard, followed by Ron.

‘Nice to see you awake Miss Granger!’ He smiled at her, his teeth were as white as snow and it was an odd contrast to his tanned skin. She tried to return his smile, but her tight stomach seemed to prevent her from doing this. He walked to the side of the bed and brought his hands and wand towards her as she sat up.

‘Let's have a look, shall we.’ He cast a diagnostic spell and she saw the runes appear above her head in a multitude of colours. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Ron staring at the symbols as if trying to read them. The Healer then began using his fingers to poke around her throat and under her glands, his fingers were cool but that did not help the sharp pains that went through her as he did so. 

‘Everything feels fine and your diagnostics are much clearer than when you came in.’ he said, pulling his hands away and flicking through her chart before looking at her. ‘You came in with a curse infection that spread through from the point of contact and into your vital organs. We were able to stop the spread and have flushed it through - it was actually a rudimentary curse and so there will be no lasting damage.’ He flashed her another smile before continuing.

‘We were more worried about the damage to your throat - as you will have noticed we cast a Silencio on you to ensure that you did not do any more damage, you were particularly vocal when the MediWizards arrived on the scene and were able to get the necklace off you, I have been told.’

‘Miss Granger, I will be removing the charm from you as I believe there is not lasting damage to this either. But I suggest you talk softly, eat soft foods and keep swallowing to a minimum for at least three days. You were lucky - if Mr Potter hadn’t sent a message we would not have been able to save you in time, no matter how slight the curse works.’

‘ _ Finite Incantatem’ _ he said, and she felt the magic trickle over her as he released the charm over her throat. ‘You will also need some rest!’

Hermione waited until the Healer had left the room before attempting to talk. Her voice was horse and tender and it sounded so tired.

‘Ron,’ she almost whispered. ‘What happened?’ He looked down into his hands, unsure of what to tell her, before he sat on the edge of the bed, placing a hand on her thigh.

‘We heard Draco shout and when we got there, you were on the floor pulling that thing off your neck. We tried to get our fingers under it but me and Malfoy….it was impossible. Hermione - you were dying in front of us.’

She could see his eyes were far away, he was reliving the moment and she almost felt guilty knowing that she had accepted she was going to die.

‘How did the Mediwizards get to me?’

‘Harry sent off his Patronus and they turned up just as you blacked out. They were able to get the necklace off your skin using a rune-breaker. But then you started to scream.’ He turned his face away to look at the wall behind her, his eyes wide and startling.

‘It was just like Katie Bell, Hermione. Your whole body was tense and thrashing and I have never heard that noise come out of you before - not even when…’ but didn’t need to say it, Hermione knew he was thinking about Shell Cottage when he had held her.

‘I should go and get Malfoy...he’ll want to see you,’ he stood slowly.

‘Is he okay?’ she asked quickly, swallowing hard and regretting it instantly.

‘He’s….I don’t know Hermione...he was beside himself! Worse than anything I have seen before. Harry had to restrain him when we got here he…’

But he couldn’t finish as the room door opened again and Draco stood there. For a moment it was as if he did not register that she was awake, just scanned his eyes over the room and continued to move in. He double took and turned to shove his tea into Harry’s hands and almost ran to get to her - but stopped about a foot short. 

‘It’s okay,’ she whispered, encouraging him to move forward and within an instant, his hands were on her cheeks and his forehead pressed against hers.

‘Are you okay?’ he whispered, but did not wait for an answer before ‘I’m sorry. Where did you get it? What were you doing? I thought you were dead!’ 

Pulling back slightly, he pressed a wet kiss to her forehead and held his lips against her skin. She could tell they were chapped and bitted from the roughness, she could only imagine that his bottom lip probably spent a lot of time worried between his teeth.

‘You look much better!’ she turned her head at Harry’s words and was shocked by the state of his appearance. He had bags under his eyes and his stubble was longer than she had ever seen it before. 

‘What happened?’ she asked again, knowing that Harry and Draco might be able to tell her a bit more.

‘We were hoping you would tell us.’ Harry said cautiously. ‘Of course, your voice is…’

‘No - I can talk.’ she took a deep breath. ‘I found the jewellery box in your stuff,’ she looked at Draco who furrowed his eyebrows.

‘What?’ Ron’s voice was dangerous behind her and Draco’s eyes shot up to meet him.

‘It’s not mine!’ he said quickly. ‘Tuesday was the first time I had ever seen that.’

‘I found it first when I was looking for my book in your room. And then again...how long have I been here?’ she asked as she noticed that Draco had specified a day of the week.

‘Two days!’ said Harry. Two days? She had been asleep for two day? Part of her couldn’t help but panic as she had lost two days of revision for her NEWTs.

‘Okay…’ she tried to calm the panic and clear her mind to remember what had happened that night. ‘Everything is a little blurry…’ she muttered, shaking her head.

‘Just do your best Hermione,’ Harry’s soft voice came from the end of the bed.

‘I remember waking up and being in the hallway and then….then there was a humming and a light. Before I knew it, it was like the box I had seen was calling to me. I couldn’t hear anyone speaking - or maybe I could - but I couldn’t stop myself from touching it and then - then a lot of pain and...and….I couldn’t breathe and…’

‘It’s okay. That’s enough for now.’ Draco said, stroking his hand down the side of her face. ‘Sounds like a classic jewellery curse if you ask me,’ he said over her head to the others. ‘I would know.’

‘But where did it come from?’ Harry asked, the look on his face was obvious - Auror training had not been able to wipe this from him yet - he was nervous.

‘This has to count as the third attack, right?’ Ron asked. 

Suddenly, as clear as day, like a flash of light across her eyes, she could see something. Ron’s words had shot through her, jogging something lodged deep - the letter. She grabbed Draco’s hand in front of her.

'What? Are you in pain?’ he asked quickly, his voice full of panic and the boys moved closer as she shook her head.

‘The P.’ she whispered.

‘What?’ asked Ron, staring at her like she had grown three heads.

‘The letter. The letter P,’ she smiled at them, but they all looked at her blankly. She sighed, frustrated that they were being so blind. ‘There was a letter P on the necklace pendant.’

‘Hermione - there was no pendant on the necklace.’ Harry said slowly, looking down at her with sad eyes.

‘No…’ she said, more insistanly. ‘There was a round silver pendant, green gems, engraved with a P.’

‘Hermione…’ Ron’s soft voice irritated her even more.

‘It must have fallen off, it's probably somewhere in that room...its….’

‘Been searched Hermione - the Auror Department found nothing. If they didn’t find it then it never existed.’ Harry said softly but defiantly.

Her eyes flicked to Draco whose eyebrows were close together but his lips wore a sad smile. She had been so sure...that pendant had been a substantial clue and now nothing. She looked down at her own hands, remembering the feel of the box, the shine of the chain and the glint of the emerald jewels - there is no way she had made this up.

* * *

Notes - Another long chapter, which I actually apologise for. I have clearly been getting too carried away. Stay safe!


	22. Chapter 22

Hermione always tried to keep herself grounded; keep herself steady and her breathing deep. After years of nightmares and panic attacks she had regular routines and coping mechanisms that allowed her to stay calm and collected. To any of her friends and family, this had been the most Hermione-like thing to do, as they had always known her to be organised and logical. To a certain few; namely Harry, Ron and Draco; this had been essential for her well-being. But even with her breathing, counting and grounding objects, there had been many incidents over the years where she had been overwhelmed and unable to control herself. She would admit that the regularity of them somewhat dwindled over time, but the intensity of them had not. They still left her tired, emotional and shaken.

A few years previously, they had all been invited to a Gala to celebrate the third anniversary of the Battle of Hogwarts. The decision to attend had been a difficult one for them all and the event even harder. Hermione had not been able to bear the smiling faces and photographers on the street of Diagon Alley, let alone a ballroom full of people. ‘The Golden Trio’ had stayed close together in an attempt to avoid people who wanted to be overfamiliar and her senses were extremely heightened. It had only taken one person to grab her shoulder from behind for her to let out a burst of accidental magic, all the glass within a few metres of her position had exploded and she had apparated away with a scream of terror. It had been Draco who had found her ten minutes later, huddled into the corner of their living room, books from the shelves strewn across the floor, her skin cut and bleeding from the glass and her eyes wild. It had taken him a further hour and the additional help of Harry and Ron to coax her out of the corner of the room and to get her cleaned up.

Unfortunately, it was not just her that suffered. Harry had to pace the perimeter at every event they attended, even family ones, at least three times before he could talk to anyone. She knew that he still suffered from terrible nightmares and his insomnia was almost legendary in the family. Ron had to keep an eye on the amount he could drink, as too much would cause him to become vague, distant, angry and emotional. There had been several times where Hermione had seen him in a puddle in his bathroom with Harry attempting to console him, his arms flinging wildly, tears streaming down his face. 

And Hermione had seen first hand the effect that Draco’s nightmares and flashbacks had on him. He often tried to keep it from her; his secretive streak still ran deep in his Malfoy veins. But sometimes he wouldn’t silence himself quickly enough or would leave a gap in the door of the room he had escaped to, and she could hear the small sobs wracking his body or the harrowed breathing escaping his lungs.

That was how she found him tonight. She had awoken to a small sound, turned over to throw herself at him but had found cool sheets; not unusual, as he was a notoriously poor sleeper. Rubbing her eyes and looking over to check her monitor charm; still green to show their baby sleeping soundly, she rose from the bed and made her way towards the ensuite. Drawing closer, she heard the unmistakable sound of shuddered breathing and stopped to compose herself. After all this time, she still needed to remind herself to be delicate with him. She slowly opened the door to see him bent over the porcelain sink, his hands gripped to the edges, his knuckles white from the effort. His back was stretched before her, his alabaster skin visibly shaking. As if he could sense her, his head shot up and her eyes met his reflection; they were slightly red and swollen and she could see the slightly dried tear tracks edged along his face. 

‘Sorry I woke you,’ he croaked, his voice hoarse and chest heaving as he spoke. He looked down and wiped the back of his hand across his face. 

It had been a transition for him, from an over dramatic child, to a scared teenager living amongst terrorists taught to hide his feelings, to a man who wore his heart on his sleeve and cried freely.. Early in their relationship he was very emotionally distant, hidden and stoic like she knew he believed all men should be. Over time, this had worn away. Some of the reason’s he cried were wonderful; when she walked down the aisle on their wedding day, when their son was born and he was happy to tell anyone who would listen that he freely cried when she told him she loved him for the first time. But some were memories of things that she knew they would both rather forget, tears that he hid deep within himself drowning in shame. Even when she knew what he was thinking about was horrific, he hated her to see the evidence of it in his eyes.

Hermione reached forward, brushing her fingertips gently across his shoulders, feeling him shudder under her touch and exhale slowly. She took this as permission and swept towards him, pressing her cheek against the middle of his back and winding her arms across his stomach, holding him. 

‘You didn’t.’ she whispered into his skin, pressing her lips against him in the softest of kisses. They stayed like this for at least 5 minutes then, without warning, he swung around and grabbed her, pulling her into his warm chest, his hands burying in her hair and his nose burrowing against the nape of her neck. 

There were so many times that reminded her that the two of them were polar opposites; the hard against the soft. Their nightmares were no exception to this. Hermione hardly liked to be touched after an episode; small touches and only on her hands were the perfect remedy; that and her grounding exercises would ensure she could come back to earth eventually. Draco was very different; he wanted to be as close as possible, as much skin touching as he could mustre. He wanted to feel alive, feel her heartbeat against his chest, her breath against his skin, her hair on his face. 

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked him, a small voice against his giant form.

‘In the morning,’ he answered. She exhaled a sigh of relief, she knew that he would rather not tell her at all. She brought her hand to trace strong hands down his spine, settling on his lower back. He drew back to meet her eyes again.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked, bringing her hand to trace along his cheekbone, feeling it warm and puffy.

‘I will be,’ he gave her a small sad smile and brought his lips down upon hers in a light, brushed kiss.

She moved into the kiss, swiping her tongue gently across his lower lips, eliciting a moan from his mouth. His fingertips pulled from the nape of her neck, to trace her jawline and settling either side of her face. When she pulled away, drawing in breath fiercely, she could see the flush on his skin that started at his jaw and extended down to his chest. She followed the line with her hands, bringing it to rest on his hip just above the waistline of his boxer shorts and sighed.

‘I want you,’ he whispered, staring intently into her eyes. 

‘Draco…’ she smiled at him, wanting to tell him that he needed some sleep when he stopped her with another searing kiss.

‘I need you,’ he murmured into her lips.

Hermione knew there were now few things that would get him to change course and so she kissed him again, weaving her hands around his check as she felt his travel to her backside, lifting her up gently and wrapping her legs around him. The searing kiss continued as he walked them slowly back into their darkened bedroom and he lay her down, moving his face to plant kisses on her jawline and neck, travelling further south. Hermione heard herself moan as the warmth of his lips moved across her skin, her breath quickening at the rush of his hands moving up her legs, under her nightdress and pulling down her underwear as his mouth ghosted her nipple under the sheer material. He groaned and ground against her thigh when he trailed a finger through her folds and found her ready for him; she was always ready for him. He stopped kissing her and drew back to look into her eyes, and they stayed still for a moment, reading each other's faces more intently than any book either of them had studied. 

His face changed in an instant from arousal to concern, and his face shot to look over at the monitor charm. Hermione followed his eyes and sighed when she saw it had changed to a deep pink colour. She gave him an apologetic smile when she started to rise on her elbows to attend to Scorpius, when Draco put a soft hand to her shoulder

‘Don’t even think about it Granger!’ he growled at her. ‘Let me sort him, I won’t be long. I expect to find you thoroughly naked when I return!’ 

With a smile, he strolled out of the room and Hermione could not pull her nightdress over her head quick enough.

  
  


* * *

A crisis meeting had been called. That was what Hermione had, almost affectionately, named it when she was called down to the Grimmauld Place kitchen table two days after her release from St Mungo’s. They had kept her on the ward for two further days than she had deemed necessary, telling her that it was standard procedure for objects of a cursed nature. Personally, Hermione was certain that Harry had arranged the extended stay so that he could do some recon while she was out of the way.

On her second day on the ward, Draco had disappeared for hours and on his return had looked grey and sullen. Hermione spent the first hour pacing and waiting for him, but then made her way to the poison ward where she was surprised to see Theo, sitting and awake.

Draco had been sitting by her bed when she returned to the ward but he had acted distant and strange and she knew without having to ask that he must have been pulled for questioning. Surprisingly, Hermione had not felt a surge of rage towards her friends or the Auror department, knowing that they were doing their job but did feel a pang of guilt thinking this way. When she finally worked up the courage to ask him about it, he simply told her that their line of questioning hit a dead end and he was released from their custody and into Harry and Ron’s protection. She had seen the slight sneer of his lips as he said this, as if being under their protection had hurt him in some way. She started to question whether this was her fault, if she had just asked him about the necklace or the note in the common room when he had asked her, maybe all of this could be avoided. Hindsight was a curse, she had thought to herself.

‘Why did you take him in for questioning?’ Hermione had asked Ron when he came to collect her that evening; Draco had left to organise some paperwork and to speak to Harry in the corridor about the transfer.

‘It wasn’t our choice Hermione. Dawlish insisted that Robards had pulled him in under suspicious circumstances due to the fact that the necklace was found in his possession,’ Ron said to her. She could almost see the small hint of agreement in his eyes, he thought Draco had something to do with it as well. It was in those moments that she remembered how much he disliked the only person she had given herself to. 

‘But they released him so…’

‘There just wasn’t any evidence Hermione. We...they can’t take anything forward without it. You and I both know that Malfoy could pay for a legal team that could kick the ministry’s arse over this. The fact that they kept him for three hours was enough, the legal department were having a fit.’

‘Ron,’ she said, placing her hand over his to stop him from collecting her bag of things from the bedside cabinet. ‘Have you looked into the…’

‘Pendant?’ came Draco’s voice from the door. She turned to smile at him but his eyes were closed and staring at her hand on Ron’s. She had tried not to bring up the issue with him, knowing that mentioning her name would cause an argument.

‘There was nothing Hermione,’ Ron said sadly, pulling his hand away and grabbing her bad. ‘Come on, we need to take you home.’

As Hermione now sat opposite them on the scrubbed wooden table, watching them exchange glances in a private staring conversation, her mind flicked back to that comment Ron had made. Take her home, as if this was that, as if she really had one. Her father used to say to her that home was where the heart was, an old muggle saying that would stick funny in her throat when she attempted to utter it. Her mother had told her that home was a feeling of safety and security, a nice thought when she knew her mother and father would only need each other. Now, with her parents on the other side of the world and no brick and mortar structure to call her own - would this be the place she called home? She had spent the last seven years flitting between numerous homes; from her parents, to the Burrow, to Hogwarts, to a dusty tent, back to the castle. to here; it would appear that the two people in front of her had been the most contant. If this was home, she wasn’t actually quite sure what to think of it.

‘So...we need to speak about...Malfoy.’ Harry began slowly, looking across at her with caution.

She had been able to guess that would be their first topic of conversation when Harry had gently tapped on her bedroom door not ten minutes ago to ask her to join them downstairs. She knew that they had heard a particularly loud conversation they had had, she did not want to call it an argument because that would imply that both parties were arguing. Hermione had a fleeting feeling that living here with them had almost turned them into overprotective parents.

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione had said to Draco when he turned from packing his bag.

‘I have to return to the castle tonight,’ he had repeated, slowly and full of a calm that Hermione did not seem able to replicate.

‘I don’t understand. There is still over a week of holiday and you promised to help me study.’

‘It’s not about that,’ he said. ‘This just something I have to do.’

This had made her more irate than anything, and she could already feel herself ready to clutch at anything.

‘I don’t care what you need to do Draco. I need you here.’ she had practically shouted across the small bedroom hoping to gain some reaction. But he was stoic and still, watching her intently, blinking slowly.

‘Granger, this is not a discussion. I am telling you that I am going today. You will see me when you return.’

‘I’ll come with you. We can plan the next event, and study, and sit by the lake and…’

‘No. You have to remain here for the rest of the holidays. You are safe here.’

‘I am safe with you. I need to be with you.’ she had all but screamed this at him, feeling the hysteria of the moment catch her unawares. The pitch of her voice was embarrassingly high thinking back on it, and it almost made sense that he broke eye contact to look to the floor.

‘Hermione,’ he had stated, placing the last of his items on his back and throwing it over this shoulder. ‘I will see you in a week.’ 

With long strides he had walked past her and she had reached out a hand to grab him by the forearm, stilling him in his movement. 

‘Please…’ she whispered, begging him, desperation so clear in her voice. But he did not reply, just turned and placed a soft kiss on her forehead and then left.

‘What about him?’ she sighed across at the other two, feeling her chest readying her for another fight.

‘It was the Ministry,’ Harry said. ‘They sent him back to Hogwarts!’ 

‘What?’ she asked, almost disbelieving. ‘Why?’ she asked.

‘Dawlish believes that he is too accountable when under this roof. He told us that he does not want the ministry pulling him in for any more questions and the best way to avoid that is to have him at school where there are more people to vouch for him. To be able to see what he is doing.’

‘Does Robards think it was him?’ she spat.

‘We are pretty sure he does. According to Dawlish, Robards thinks your safety is our top priority because if someone gets to you, they get to us. Easy targets us three.’ Ron said.

Hermione sat back in her chair, looking between the two of them. ‘But we know that they can pull him in all they like, they aren’t going to find anything. Would it not make sense to make that obvious rather than hide him away.’

‘I think this has more to do with the Order than Dawlish is letting on. It’s not a secret within the department that Robards is not a fan of the Order - historically he is under the impression that they are, for lack of a better word, vigilantes.’

‘Harry, that’s ridiculous!’ Hermione almost laughed. ‘We basically won the war single handed. Without the Order, where would we be?’

‘It’s not that we agree, Hermione.’ Harry offered, reaching a hand across to her and pulling it back when she squeezed it. ‘The issue is that organisations like the Order are fine for people like Robards to accept when we are in war-time - but in peace-time they are considered dangerous.’

‘I don’t get it either,’ Ron added. ‘In my opinion we are still in war-time - there are still DE’s hanging around and able to muster up support for a new following. But at this stage we have to be careful.’

‘So Dawlish is worried that they would push Draco to say something about the Order and then we are all hauled in for questioning over illicit activities - specifically illegal trips to people’s castle estates.’

‘Exactly,’ said Harry. ‘Imagine the field day the press would have on that one.’

‘Okay,’ she sighed, at least her mind stopped running over the reasons that he had left because of something she had done. But it was clear that he was upset to tell her the real reason for his departure and she would have preferred to hear it from him. ‘What else do you have to talk about in this crisis meeting?’ she asked, snappily.

Harry laughed as he rose from his chair. ‘Just whether or not you want Chinese tonight?’

She sighed and rolled her eyes, going to relax her shoulders, but something stopped her. A niggle at the back of her head - something about the way Ron had spoken at the hospital, something that Theo had said to her about Draco.

‘Can I ask you both something?’ she said, suddenly quiet and looking at her hands. A quick glance up told her they were looking at each other nervously.

‘Of course...anything...always…’ Harry said, suddenly spying her glance.

‘Can you trust that I know him?’ they both gave her an odd look. ‘Can you trust me when I say I know he is not involved and doesn’t want anyone hurt?’

‘Hermione we...I…’ Ron started but she held up a hand and took a deep breath.

‘All I am asking is that you trust me. I know I sound naive and foolish, and I know that this is something that I never would have said before the Manor, but I know that he is with us all the way. He might act like an utter arse, and smirk at you and have to bite his tongue. I know he comes off abrasive and snarky. I know that it takes a lot of work for you to even allow him here. But if you love and trust me - please believe me when I tell you I know him.’

There was a silence between the three of them now; a silence and a tension she had not felt perhaps since the night of Ron’s return. Harry was staring at her, his lips slightly parted and his eyes narrowed as if he was trying to see past her, trying to see into her head. Ron was looking at Harry for a sign of what to say. Hermione rose slowly.

‘That’s all really,’ she gave a small smile. ‘Chinese sounds great.’ she said in a small voice and turned to leave the kitchen.

Before she reached the door, she heard them move and turned just as they both enveloped her in their arms. Before she had returned to Hogwarts, especially over the summer, they had been caught in this hug many times. Her fingers wound into Harry’s shirt and her face pressed against Ron’s chest and she inhaled their combined scent; Harry’s woody, earth and Ron’s fresh outdoors . When they pulled away, Harry took his face in her hands and whispered ‘Anything...always…’ and she felt Ron kiss the top of her head.

  
  


_ ‘Well if it isn’t the Gryffindor Princess,’ Theo gave her a weak smile as she walked towards him, face shocked. _

_ ‘You’re awake!’ she exclaimed. _

_ ‘No...this is a dream Hermione!’ he smiled. ‘Yeah, over a week ago now.’ _

_ ‘We all had no idea Theo - we would have been here sooner if we had known.’ she tried to explain to him, his face was drawn tight. _

_ ‘Well that would explain why I have been here alone - well apart from an odd visit from Pansy.’ he laughed. _

_ She felt a tightness in her chest as he mentioned her name. _

_ ‘Pansy was here?’ she asked him. _

_ ‘Yeah, she knew I was awake and came to visit me. She said that someone from the Ministry had let her know. _

_ ‘Did she say who?’ Hermione spat out with an urgency she had not felt at the beginning of this conversation. Theo looked her up and down, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. _

_ ‘No Hermione, she kind of wanted to talk about me!’ he laughed at her, and she tried to relax. _

_ ‘Sorry Theo - of course. How are you?’ she asked him, sitting on the edge of his bed. _

_ She looked him up and down. His usually tanned skin was slightly grey from the lack of sun, his cheekbones were more angular and his lips thin.  _

_ ‘I have been better! Poison will do that to you,’ he laughed slightly, grabbing her hand. ‘I was going to ask why you are wearing a robe, but that nice mark on your neck is telling me not to.’ _

_ She drew her hand up to skim the mark with soft fingertips, feeling the slight bump. Looking him in the eye, unable to hold it in anymore, she told him everything. It was nice to talk to someone that she hadn’t known all her life or the person she was sleeping with. Since September, he had been this presence in her life that would listen and give her real advice without taking any shit. _

_ She told him what happened after his poisoning, telling him that Draco had been injured (but leaving out the mission details), about Blaise and the cauldron and finishing on the necklace. She couldn’t even hold back on her suspicions of Pansy. When she finally stopped talking to take a breath, he was silent, maintaining eye contact with wide eyes. _

_ ‘Hermione…’ he said softly ‘...a lot sure has happened.’  _

_ She nodded softly and felt his hand squeeze her gently. _

_ ‘Listen - Pansy told me about what happened with Blaise, and told me all about you and Draco. She seems to think he is disgracing himself - which you have to know I told her off about. But...I am not sure about her. What does Draco say about her?’ _

_ ‘He won’t talk to me about it Theo. He thinks I am jealous of her, or of what they used to have.’ _

_ ‘And are you?’ he asked, one eyebrow raised and a smirk on his face. She pushed him slightly and rolled her eyes at him. _

_ ‘Listen to me Granger,’ he continued. ‘I think you need to focus on Draco and not about pushing the Pansy thing with him. Not that I don’t think she isn’t up to something, she has always been manipulative. But Draco is not as strong as he looks…’ his words fell off. _

_ ‘What do you mean?’ she asked.  _

_ ‘He spent an entire year living with a terrorist in his house, afraid and lonely. His arm is forever marked with the dirtiest thing that has ever existed in our universe and he stood there night after night experiencing pain and panic. And he still managed to save your life, stand against his family and become a spy. Then he returned to school knowing that he would have to watch his back the entire year; McGonagall only made him head boy to protect him - he didn’t even want it. She told him that if he didn’t take it, he couldn’t come back. And, because the boy is clearly a glutton for pain, he fell for you.’ _

_ He sounded so far away as he spoke to her, looking at her as if everything his friend was going through all drew back to her. Without her he wouldn’t have run away from The Dark Lord, without her he wouldn’t have turned his back on everything he had always known, without her he wouldn’t be under the ministry’s suspicion. She sighed. _

_ ‘Theo...I…’ she stuttered, staring at his white issue blanket. _

_ ‘I don’t tell you this to upset you or to get to confront him. Just...give him a little bit extra okay? The Malfoy boy is a rare breed - the worst kind of spoilt brat turned terrified child. The fact that he even let you in surprises me. Did you know he hardly ever even kissed Pansy?’ he said, a small smile on his face. ‘Yeah, she told me once. Came to me crying, all hysterical. He just told her he hated kissing - that it was cheap and common. Obviously not huh?’ _

  
  
  


The week had been longer than she had expected, and not seeing him everyday was much harder than Hermione had originally thought it would be. In all the quiet moments; when she would place her studying down, when Harry and Ron cleared up dinner, when she lay in her bed at night, she would think about Draco and the words of Theo. 

It did not help that she was spending her week surrounded by the boys and the ways in which they showed affection. It wasn’t surprising, Ron had always been overly affectionate for the length of the time they had known him. Growing up in a large family where physical contact was a prerequisite for love, he had been raised to touch and hug and kiss at any available opportunity. What Hermione found strange was Harry and the way in which he showed affection. Harry was notorious for pulling away, brooding and leaving them for hours at a time. Yes, he would hug them and eventually share a bed with the two of them, but she had never seen him in this light. At dinner, he would reach over and grab Ron’s hand absentmindedly or he would kiss the back of Ron’s neck while he washed the dishes. Hermione watched as in the evening he cuddled close to Ron on the sofa while he read, and would allow for Ron to scrape his fingers through his hair he settled in too low. She loved them, loved watching them, but it made her feel incredibly lonely.

So by the time she had stepped out of the fireplace in Professor McGonagall’s office on Friday morning and made her way to the Head’s Common Room, her chest was aching with missing him. As she got to the corridor she saw him coming out from behind the tapestry, and stopped when he saw her standing there. Feeling more brave than she had felt before, knowing that without him she had the worst week and needing him to see that without him she was useless, she walked towards him. His face was still and masked and she couldn’t read it as she paced towards him, dropping her bag and throwing her arms around his neck, pushing her lips on his.

He was frozen against her, unmoving and solid and she drew back to look him in the eye. She saw the faint blush spread across his neck as she looked up at him.

‘Draco I lo…’ but he moved his hand and placed it against her lips.

‘Please don’t.’ he said, smiling sadly down at her. She furrowed her eyebrows, grabbing his hand in hers and pulling it down.

Before she could speak again, he leant down and kissed her with a bruising force. Hermione parted her lips and felt his tongue slide easily across her bottom lip. She moaned into him, moving her hands to his hair and grabbing at the nape of his neck. She felt Draco turn them and push her back into the tapestry that fell behind her like water and he moved them quickly through the room to push her against the nearest bookcase. 

His hands were everywhere; in her hair, on her chest and travelling up her thighs. His hands always drove her wild, and the squeeze of the back of her upper thighs caused her to drop her head back and he took the opportunity to bury his face and scrape his teeth against her pulse point. Goosebumps erupted down her skin and she pulled her fingers out of his hair and pushed them under the hem of his t-shirt. Draco pulled his lips away from her skin as she dragged the fabric over his head, throwing it on the floor as he attached himself to her once again. 

Hermione pushed her hips forward, meeting his and sighing when she felt his hardness pressed against her inner thigh. She reached down to grasp him through his trousers and he hissed, bucking into her hand. He kissed her again, pressing their swollen lips together and she pulled his lips into her teeth, earning another heedy moan to escape his throat. Draco ripped the buttons on her shirt in his need to get at her and pulled down a cup on her bra, sliding his fingers over her nipple on his way to the buttons on her jeans. Dragging them to the floor and helping her step out of them, he hooked his hand under her knee, throwing it over her shoulder and fiercely pulling her underwear to one side to bury his face in between her thighs. Her hands found themselves once again threaded into his platinum locks, steadying herself as her voice hitched in her throat and his tongue darted in her folds. Before long, she was keening under his tongue.

‘Please...Draco…’she moaned as he latched onto her clit, sucking and nibbling, bringing her incredibly close to the peak of her pleasure. 

He responded, bringing his fingers to her centre and sinking into her, curling to meet that spot that drove the edge and within seconds she was chasing her orgasm, gasping for breath and gripping onto his shoulder like a vice. She exploded over him, shouting out her orgasm as he lapped at her. When she was able to catch her breath, she felt a soft kiss on the inside of her thigh and he dropped her leg, rising to come face to face with her. He was flushed, the pink on his skin spread from his cheeks to his chest and he was breathing heavy, his chin slightly wet and slick as he pushed to meet her again. The kiss was softer, deeper than before and he pushed his body against her as if he knew that if he moved away she would collapse, her legs shaking from the effort. 

Hermione moved her hand down and undid his trousers, pushing them down to his thighs and taking his length in her hands. He planted his hands either side of her head and bit down on her earlobe as she stroked him, sliding her thumb over the wet slit on the head and then down to cup his balls. This seemed to be too much for him as he grabbed her under the thighs and lifted her, using the bookshelf to support her, Hermione could feel the books pushing against her lower back. Looking into her eyes, he guided himself to her centre and in one moment, buried himself within her. Hermione’s head fell back against the shelf as he thrust into her as a punishing pace; hard and fast. The noises she made were almost ungodly and she knew that how he was gripping her was going to leave Draco sized fingerprints all over her skin.

‘Draco...oh god...please…’ she murmured into his skin as her head fell forward onto his shoulder and he turned his head to whisper into her ear.

‘I love you like this,’ he breathed, never relenting his thrusts. ‘You are mine.’

‘Yes...always yours...Draco...please...I am so close!’

Pushing harder against the wall, he brought one of his hands to grab her at the ear and bring her face to his; that would be another bruise.

‘Come for me baby! Come for me Hermione!’

And she couldn’t take it anymore. She felt the tight knot that had twisted in her stomach snap and she thrust against him, erupting and screaming out his name as she came for him, always for him, staring so deep into his eyes that she felt like she was falling into him. He rode her through her climax and it did not take long before he was grunting, chasing his own edge, his thrusts becoming erratic. When he came he caught her lips and she swallowed her own name.

They were breathing heavily when he slowly slipped out of her, ignoring her noises of protest and her clawing at his shoulders. He set her down, supporting her while he tucked himself back into his trousers and then turned his attention back to her, lifting her and kissing her full on the mouth, carrying her to her bedroom. She let him set her down, spent and exhausted, he leant over her, kissing her once more before going to move away.

‘Please stay with me,’ she whispered slowly, fighting the urge to fall asleep and grabbing his hand softly.

‘I can’t, I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall. I will be back soon love,’ he whispered, sitting on the edge of the bed next to her. She curled her body around his form, desperate to feel him on her still.

‘Just stay for a little while, please…’ and saw his reaction before she even felt the tears trailing down her cheek. He moved his hand, slowly wiping them away with his thumb and pressing his cheek to hers in a moment that seemed far too intimate for him.

‘Until you’re asleep.’ he said.

And he kept that promise to her, trailing his hands over her hair as she fell asleep and, for the first time that week, she wasn’t thinking about Harry or Ron or Theo or Pansy. Her thoughts were of him, his hands and the way in which she could feel so much for him. And in that moment; even if they were hurtling towards a messy end, she knew that she would not have it any other way.

* * *

Notes: Thank you to everyone who has waited to patiently for an update. I will try not to take so long but you have all been so amazing and supportive. The break as so great for my writing and I was also able to fall in love with reading fan fiction again and not just writing. Sending all my love out to the world.


	23. Chapter 23

She stepped out of the fireplace ready to sink into the cream sofa in front of her, feet up and cuddled close to him, but was instantly met with the sound of banging and huffing from the kitchen. Hermione sighed to herself, pinching the bridge of her nose and settling herself to battle, already knowing what the issue was going to be.Walking into the kitchen she saw him putting dishes away; that would have been where the banging had come from.

‘Draco.’ she said softly, pausing at the side of their kitchen island and watched him stop in his movements.

His shoulders were tense, almost pulled up to his ears, his fists clenching and unclenching. Even from behind she could see the circular movement of his jaw as he fought to shout at her. Raising his voice was something Draco did not like to do, shouting was not something he had been raised with and seeing it all too often as a teenager trapped in a house with a mad-man, he despised it. Hermione shouted, she raged and ranted about work and chores and family and sometimes at him. She couldn’t remember the last time they had both shouted in the same argument but Draco’s temper was notorious and would get the better of him.

‘You’re home then.’ he stated, staring out of the window in front of him rather than turning around. Hermione was thrown by the tone of his voice; like he was talking from somewhere far away.

‘I’m sorry,’ she sighed, wanting to explain what had happened, but her words caught in her mouth as he turned around to face her. She had expected to see rage burning in his eyes, furious and unabashed like she had so many times before, but instead there was sadness that she could not place.

‘I did send a message. Prickle made us sift through the case notes for next week’s trial. She is sure we are going to lose against the Wizenagamot. I tried to get out of it I…’

But her explanation was cut short as he sighed in front of her, resting his hands on the island and hanging his head down. She understood why he was angry or upset and she was sure that it had to do with another explanation of why she had been working late without much notice. Gethsemane Prickle, Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, had become almost a third wheel in their relationship since she had returned to work and, although Draco was extremely patient with her late night and emergency weekend work calls, he seemed to be reaching the end of his tether.

Sometimes Hermione wanted to confront him about this and explain that this is the way she was. She loved her family life and her social life, but she was a hard worker and was determined to make a difference in the world. After all of the atrocities she had seen, she had a better view than most about the wrongs and rights of their society. But today, when his eyes had turned a dull grey, the lids hanging heavy and the words stilled between them, she wanted to quit her job and forget about others and just be there with him. She liked to put it down to the new hormones that motherhood had flooded her system with.

‘Draco - you know I want to get home to the two of you as quickly as I can at the end of each day,’ he raised his head to look at her. ‘Sometimes, I can’t help it when others need my help. It’s my job!’

Hermione was desperate for him to speak to her, even an outburst would be better and she knew that throwing her last comment at his face would get him. How many times had he thrown the word heroism in her face, the fact that she had to save the world, had to keep reminding him how much better than him she was. It was the crux of another set or arguments that they only touched on when she came home late more than three times in one week. And she grounded herself on the kitchen tiles, waiting for him to explode and scream and roar like the dragon he was - but there was nothing.

It was only at this point, when he turned his head back towards the window and the early evening moonlight spread across his features and she saw traces of dried tears on his face. Her stomach dropped and she gasped slightly. Her senses became heightened and she listened for the small sounds of their son and looked around for the monitor charm. Nothing.

‘Draco, where’s Scorpius?’ she asked hurriedly.

‘He is with Harry and Ron,’ he answered. It wasn’t their day to have him and usually they would go through her to organise it in advance to give Draco a chance to visit his mother. That would mean that Draco approached them and that something was wrong.

‘What happened?’ Hermione asked in a small voice, but he just breathed slowly and stared at his own hands. Hermione noticed that they were shaking and so she moved around the island to stand next to him, pressing her body into his side and her hand over his.

‘You’re scaring me Draco,’ she whispered, curling her fingers around his hand and letting out a small whimper when he curled his fingers round hers in return.

‘Mother floo’d me today. It’s Lucius. He’s….’ he turned his head to look at her. ‘He’s gone, Hermione.’

A chill swept down her body as she took in his expression, his jaw pressed tight together, the shaking tension in his body. Despite her feelings for the person in particular, she felt tears begin to prickle at the corners of her eyes for him, for her husband who had lost a father.

‘Draco. I’m so sorry.’ It was all her mind could say, and she heard the pathetic words and instantly wanted to berate herself.

‘Don’t apologise,’ he said. ‘You know how I feel...felt about the man.’

‘He was still your father and, right or wrong, you know he loved you. Uh…’ she sighed. ‘I should have been here.’

He turned to face her and she, finally, took his face in her hands, brushing her thumbs across his cheeks. He turned his face, pressing it into her hand, feeling her skin against him.

‘I know you were busy. I know your job is so important to so many people. You can’t stop being a hero for someone like him.’

She took him by the hand and led him to the sofa, sitting him down and settling in next to him. Draco’s elbows quickly found his knees and his head went into his hands. Hermione knew that Lucius was sick, that his life force had been fading for months, Narcissa had told them about it after her last visit to him. Draco had not seen him in years, had not wanted to step foot in the prison . His fear of the place was insurmountable, even the mention of Azkaban would have him breaking out in a cold sweat, which made talking about Harry and Ron’s job very difficult. But although he had not visited, and had insisted several times a year that Lucius Malfoy was someone he did not want to associate with; she knew that deep down Draco loved him. A father is still a father and, for at least 14 years, Lucius had been a good and protective one.

Hermione wound her hand up his back in soothing motions and her fingers found the slight curls of his hair at the nape of his neck.

‘What did your mother say?’ she asked him when he had taken a few steadying breaths.

‘Just that the guards found him this morning, his heart had given out and he was just...cold.’ Draco’s voice was broken and clipped.

‘How is she?’

‘She’s arranged a Portkey to stay at the Manor in two weeks time to stay for a few days. That’s when the funeral is.’

‘I meant - how is she dealing with the news?’ Hermione asked, brushing through his hair and sweeping it out of his eyes as he sat up. 

‘You know Narcissa, more focussed on the event planning than anything else,’ he said bitterly.

‘Draco, I am sure that’s just not true.’

‘Hermione, what do you expect? They were officially separated.’ he stood, walking towards a bookcase and fiddling with the books upon the shelf. Hermione hated him like this; distant and shirty. She rose from the couch to stand behind him.

‘You know as well as I do that your mother loved your father, and that he loved her in return.’ She swept a hand down his arm in comfort. ‘No matter what you tell me today, I am still sorry that you have lost your father. Draco...I am so sorry.’

She stood on her tiptoes and planted a kiss at the back of his neck, trying to convey everything she knew he was fearing in that moment. 

Once, in the middle of the night, in a moment of apparent desperation, he had told her that he had feared he was just like his father. His looks, his demeanor, his cruelty.That eventually, like his mother had done, Hermione would come to realise that no matter how much she loved him, she loved her own sanity more. That she would leave him and he would be left, just like his father, alone and in a cage of his own making. It had broken her heart then, just as it did tonight, knowing that he was thinking of this all over again.

Without warning, he broke under her, a sob escaping his lips as his hands gripped the bookshelf for support. ‘My father….’ he whispered as he fell to his knees and Hermione went down with him, cradling him against her chest as he lost control. And just like that, the strong man who had supported her through fire and anguish, crumbled into a boy, crying for his father and all Hermione could do was try to soothe the pain away.

  
  


* * *

‘I’m not saying that isn’t the correct date Hermione, I am just saying that I think it was a different Goblin that initiated the final battle,’ Ginny said snippily from across the table in the library.

‘I know that it was Henshraw the Brute…’ Hermione answered back , flipping through the pages of her textbook. ‘I just need to find the correct page.’

‘Look all you want Granger,’ Ginny said with a smirk. ‘You just hate to admit you may have gotten something wrong.’

The two girls were studying, something that all seventh and eighth years were now making a daily habit of. As they approached the end of the school year and their NEWTs approached, all spare time was now dedicated to revising for the exams. Only people on the Quidditch teams were taking a day off and using it to practise for the final match of the season; Slytherin Vs Ravenclaw. With Draco at practise today, she was able to set up camp in the Library with her friend, going over their History of Magic notes, the first exam they had scheduled for next week.

Not that she hadn’t spent a lot of time with Ginny over the past few weeks since the Easter break, Draco had not been around much. He had told her that McGonagall was keeping an especially close eye on him and Harry’s letters had confirmed as much. Hermione understood that Draco was not one to be kept on a leash and so, he was often found stalking the corridors trying to earn some freedom and, apparently, avoiding her at all costs.

‘Where’s Draco?’ Ginny asked, obviously spotting Hermione looking to the Library door more than once. The girl had a freakish habit of being able to read minds.

‘Where’s Blaise?’ she bit back.

‘He doesn’t like revising with me, says I am too much of a distraction,’ she smiled, hiding a blush.

‘Ugh, I could have done without that visual thank you,’ Hermione smiled back. 

She was happy to see Ginny happy with him and Blaise did seem like an entirely good person. Apart from the fact that he was a Slytherin, and Hermione could not really talk where that department was concerned, he was wicked, intelligent, quick witted and apparently made the Weasley blush. Hermione had always been a little jealous of Ginny and the way in which boys were drawn to her. But she had been worried, what with her break up with Harry, that when she found out about his new romantic arrangement, she would be heartbroken. But, if she was now playing with the Slytherin Devil himself then there was clearly hope for her.

‘Don’t avoid the question,’ Ginny frowned after a few minutes of silence. ‘Where is Draco?’

‘Quidditch practise today,’ Hermione said, looking back at her work and trying to re-read the chapter on the Goblin uprising of 1874 for the third time in 15 minutes. 

‘What about in yesterday's prefect meeting?’ she asked, and Hermione could tell she was trying to keep her tone casual while she dug for more information.

‘He said he had a meeting, I assume it was with a teacher. I was using his notes…’ she started to defend him and looked up at Ginny to see her eyebrows raised.

‘What’s going on with you two? You have been decidedly un-close since Easter. Usually you are disgustingly all over each other.’

‘That is not true; you know I do not enjoy blatant public displays of affection anyway,’ she said pointedly. ‘Nothing is going on. Everything is...fine.’

‘Yes - fine. The word used to describe all whirlwind romances.’ As Hermione looked at the smirk on Ginny’s face, she realised how much Ginny was like the twins but also how much her smirking had increased since she had been seeing Blaise.

Hermione sighed and placed her quill down. What had been going on between them? The day she had returned had been passionate and over the next few days, thinking about it had made her want to throw herself at him. And she had tried, almost embarrassingly, to get him to repeat the way he had held her, the way he had spoken to her; his filthy words dripping from his tongue into her ear. But he had restrained himself each time. When she climbed on his lap, he responded to the kiss and then pushed her off feigning a need to study. When she tried to join him in the shower he turned her around and washed her hair for her before excusing himself. When she climbed into bed with him, he would turn over and continue to read the latest issue of Quidditch Weekly. 

‘He’s just distracted,’ Hermione sighed at the red-head. ‘You know we all are with exams starting next year And a lot has happened this year; what with Theo and Blaise and me and…’

‘Pansy?’ Ginny offered and her eyes snapped to meet her. 

Hermione had purposely not spoken to Ginny about her worries. Not only because Ron had told her it was for the best, but because she was afraid that Ginny would agree with her. With Theo’s words of advice stuck in her head, she wanted to leave it well enough alone until something more solid came along - she didn’t want to push Draco any further away than he already felt. 

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione asked, attempting to sound innocent and nonchalant.

‘Well, I just knew that he was spending a bit of time with her and I know that can’t be easy on you. I know you are not the jealous type or anything but whatever assignment they have must be pretty annoying for you seeing as she is his ex.’

Hermione stilled. 

‘Yeah - that.’ she said to Ginny, trying her hardest to keep her eyes from narrowing. ‘Look at the time,’ she said suddenly. ‘I have to catch Professor Vector in her office hours before they are over. Catch you at breakfast tomorrow?’ Hermione asked, rising and using her wand to pack her bag as quickly as she could.

‘Hermione I…’

‘See you later Gin,’ she smiled as she walked out of the library, not stopping until she had climbed up two corridors and ducked behind a tapestry of a medieval battle. 

Dropping her bag to the floor, she clutched her hands on her robes as she fell against the wall, sliding down to a sitting position and breathed heavily. She tried not to let her mind become overwhelmed, tried not to think about others seeing him with her.Ginny could be mistaken, seeing something that wasn’t happening, seeing them twice in a short space of time when that could have been the only time they were together at all. Besides, Draco had not mentioned any project with Pansy since returning - and at the moment they weren’t really being set anything too rigorous due to their revision schedule. Pansy was not in dire need of extra credit from what she saw of her marks upon classroom notice boards. But, Hermione thought to herself, would Draco have even told her knowing how she would react. One mention of them together and she had collapsed behind a rug, shaking and on the brink of tears. She took two or three deep calming breaths to steady herself and pushed herself back up from the floor.

_ I am not this girl _ , Hermione said to herself.  _ It is not mine to investigate, or to question _ . If she could ask Harry and Ron to trust her about Draco, she needed to be able to trust herself when it came to him, she needed to be able to trust him. So what if he wasn’t meeting all her advances, not everyone wants to have sex everyday. So what if he wouldn’t let her express her feelings for him, she knew some men found that difficult, he must know what she feels by now without her having to say it. She closed her eyes, fighting off the tears that had started to appear behind them and swallowed a lump in her throat, trying to push away the words of their last conversation..

  
  


_ Draco was asleep, Hermione could tell by the even sound of his heavy breathing from where she sat next to him in bed. Unlike the boys, his breathing was always even, always deep; no hint of a snore. Hermione would chuckle that snoring was not dignified, perhaps no Malfoy in the last 100 years had ever snored. _

_ Her legs were crossed and the sheet pooled around her naked waist as she read a book by the moonlight pouring through the window by the bed. She had wanted to fall asleep, to curl up around him and feel as safe as she had in previous months. But, again, he had not allowed it, just settled into the mattress without a word to her. Besides that, the late spring air was sticky and so she had raised herself to remove her shirt. She wasn’t really used to sleeping clothed anymore, but had found herself doing it a lot since Easter. _

_ Frustrated, she closed the book, balancing it on top of the pile on her side of the bed, and turned her face to watch him. He was on his side, one arm slid underneath his own pillow, the other rested flat on the mattresses between them and she could see the thin line of sweat down the front of the light grey shirt he had insisted on sleeping in. She knew he must be uncomfortable in all this fabric, but he no longer allowed her access to his skin. _

_ Laying down softly next to him, she turned to face him, mirroring his position and letting out a long breath, almost studying him. Before she could reach a hypothesis, his eyes flickered open and met hers. She expected a small smile from him in return for the one she sent his way, but instead a line appeared in his forehead as if he was confused by the sight that met him. Draco slowly lifted a finger and brought it to her neck, tracing, not only the small scar left there by a knife last year, but the almost disappeared necklace line. She swallowed and felt the pressure of his finger change and he pulled it away as if burnt. She was desperate to say it to him, could feel the three words sticking in her throat and itching to get out. _

_ ‘Draco..’ she whispered, and he blinked as if giving her recognition for her words. ‘I really want to talk to you.’ _

_ ‘Isn’t that what you are doing?’ he asked. Although he was whispering, the sound was not intimate - it was almost mocking. And she felt suddenly shy and small against his large frame. _

_ ‘I just….I just wanted to…’ _

_ He raised an eyebrow at her. ‘Granger, can you get to it - you know I have practise and studying tomorrow. As do you.’ _

_ Feeling suddenly ridiculous, she rose from the bed and grabbed her t-shirt from the floor, throwing it over her head. When she turned around to face him, he had not moved an inch and seemed quite content to watch her go through this inner crisis. He was playing a cruel game, did he want to push her away? Did he want her to yell at him so he could say what he really felt? _

_ ‘Are you okay?’ she asked him, hoping to put down his odd behaviour to workload or exam stress, although a pain deep down told her that wouldn’t be the reason for his distance. _

_ ‘Other than waking up to have this inane conversation with you?’ he smirked and, again, Hermione saw no hint of play in his eyes. Was he purposefully trying to make her upset? _

_ ‘Right. I will just go to my own room then…’ she trailed off as she spun around and walked off. She heard him sit up and paused when she got to the bathroom door, turning her head to look at him. For a moment she saw sadness etched in his soft features, but when he noticed her he froze again - the image of a statue. So the game he was playing was for himself and not for her. _

_ ‘I have been trying to tell you something Draco.’ she said, as she pressed her hand into the door jam to ground herself as she turned her body. ‘I want to tell you I lo…’ _

_ ‘Stop Granger! I thought I went over this the other day.’ There was malice in his voice, definite malice, meaning to still her from hurtling over that cliff - the only first left for her after him.  _

_ ‘You mean  _ _ when you physically stopped me with your hand on my mouth?’ _

_ ‘How else was I going to stop you?’ he asked.  _

_ ‘Why won’t you let me say it, if you know it’s what I want?’ she asked, feeling the sting of unwanted tears and tremor of fear in her chest. It was now that he stood and rounded the best, standing 6 foot away, anger on his face. _

_ ‘And what about what I want Hermione? Did you ever think that I don’t want you to say it?’ _

_ This stopped her talking and she took a deep breath as her lip started to tremble. _

_‘Do you not...want..._ _me Draco_?’ _He sighed slightly._

_ ‘I am not good Hermione. Do not use those words on me. Save them for another time.’ _

_ ‘I think that time came and went when I fell into your bed .’ To her surprise he gave a hollow laugh. _

_ ‘That was our mistake.’ _

_ She had not stayed any longer, just returned to her old room, cold and lonely. Curling herself up into a ball, she had cried herself to sleep waiting for the morning when he would meet her in the common room and take her hand before leading them to breakfast, a faraway look in his eye. _

Trying to avoid leaving the space behind the tapestry looking a mess, Hermione had conjured a small mirror and had applied a cooling charm under her eyes to fight redness. She needn’t however, as when she stepped out from her hiding place, the corridor was deserted. Heading back to the dormitory, she did not stay to meet him after practise and did not leave her door open for him. He didn’t even come looking for her.

Soon enough, she had more to distract her than her relationship, and with no more attacks she was able to focus on the exams. Even Harry’s letters had become sparse with real information and she realised that, he too, must have paid attention to the calendar and knew that exam season had come. Monday morning came with a vengeance and most of the seventh and eighth years were walking around the castle sporting bags unders their eyes and hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in days. Hermione noted that Draco looked as impeccable as ever, he didn’t even appear nervous about the History of Magic exam they had at 9am that morning.

Walking into breakfast, the tables were piled high with last minute notes and revision cards, and the familiar stone fell into her stomach. Hermione had always revelled in exams, knew that her revision timetable and determination were enough to get her through it, but it did not make her any less nervous. Plonking herself at the table and grabbing some toast, she saw Neville eagerly grab at Ginny’s notes next to him and pore over them while she sighed and rolled her eyes, buttering her own toast. Lifting her eyes, Hermione peered over to the Slytherin table where Draco was having a conversation with Blaise. To anyone looking, it would appear that the two friends were engaging in friendly joshing but, even from this distance, Hermione could see the tension in Draco’s shoulders and the wrinkles around Blaise’s eye. Suddenly, the darker boy stood and walked towards them and Draco’s eyes shot to her’s, locking for an instant and then dropping without any sign of seeing her at all. 

‘Your boyfriend is an arsehole,’ Blaise spat out as he took the notes out of Neville’s hands and flicked through them quickly.

‘What has he done?’ she asked, in a bored voice, trying to bring a smile to her face.

‘I asked for his notes, he said no. I asked him to come and sit over here with you guys so I could look at your notes, he said no. I asked him what his issue was and then he said it was none of my fucking business. What did you do to him Granger?’ he asked.

‘You would have to ask him that question - he doesn’t seem to think I am worth explaining it to.’

Blaise furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and Ginny’s head shot up from her toast and Hermione could tell that they wanted to ask her about it, but she wanted to stay focussed. Leaving her toast, he stalked out of the Great Hall and stood in front of the open door in the entrance hall, letting the warm breeze wash over her, helping her keep her emotions in check.

‘Granger…’ came Blaise’s voice from behind her, she spun around and smiled at him weakly.

‘I thought Ginny would come out after me,’ she said.

‘She doesn’t know enough about Draco for this conversation,’ he said. ‘What’s going on?’

She wanted to tell him, wanted to cry and scream and embarrass herself in a million ways to get the answers she needed, but if she started she would not stop. So instead, Hermione shrugged her shoulders and shot a look to the door of the Great Hall, hoping that he would not join them.

‘Is this to do with this project he is working on?’ Blaise asked, his voice suddenly quiet and Hermione could feel a thump in her throat begin to develop.

‘Project? Did Ginny…?’ she asked, wanting to know the source of the information, desperate to know more.

‘Ginny?’ he asked, his face grimacing as he thought the question odd. ‘What would Ginny know about it? No - Draco said he had been really busy lately with some kind of project...with Pansy.’

And there it was, the confirmation she had so dreaded. Two seperate accounts of her boyfriend on a ‘project’ with the one person he knows that she is wholly unable to trust.

‘He hasn’t said anything to me about it. I only heard about the project from others.’ she muttered at him, pushing her feelings down further than she would have ever done before.

‘Don’t you think it’s odd?’ he asked, clearly not noticing the way she was shifting the weight on her feet or fiddling with his hands in uncertainty. ‘I mean - exams are here so what would the project be? And with Pansy? Last he told me is that he was steering clear of that one.’

She wished that he would just stop talking, would leave her to her thoughts, would leave her to regain the calm she needed to be able to sit through a two hour essay paper. But he didn’t, he just stood there, waiting for her to explain everything he was missing. Hermione just stared right back and after some time, Blaise looked at the floor, apparently coming to some sort of realistion at the same time she did. They were falling apart and Hermione did not seem to have enough hands to hold them together.

The exam hall was stifling and Hermione could see her vision starting to become blurry. With everything going on in her head, she was surprised that the morning exam had flown by and she had been able to make a good case for and against both the Goblin Rebellion of 1752 and the Centaur legislation of the 1970’s. When the final beep sounded from Professor McGonagall’s wand, and she asked them to put down their quill, Hermione smiled slightly at her Charms essay, confidant that she had been able to accurately describe the cause and effect of the Gauging Charm and how it can be used on different species. 

As the years filed out of the hall and out onto the Hogwarts grounds, the sun beaming overhead threatening an even hotter exam room tomorrow, Hermione felt her heart sink. She could feel Ginny at her elbow, looking out of the students who were now collapsing on the grass and chatting avidly about the answers they gave. Hermione looked down to her feet, wishing that Harry and Ron were here, wishing she could tell them what she had written about the Bubble-Head charm and what examples she had given. She knew that Ron would explain how he nearly confused the water making charm and the vinegar to wine charm questions and she missed the noise of the laugh that Harry would make. It was always a tradition at the end of exams days to sit in their spot by the lake and the boys would sit or lay patiently as she detailed every angle of the exam - she could almost feel Ginny wanting to do the same. But Hermione’s heart was not in it and at that moment, a flash of blonde caught her eye and she looked to her right to see Draco turning the corner by the greenhouses. Without a word to Ginny, she followed, already knowing who she would find with him when she got there.

‘What took you so long Draco?’ Pansy asked, her voice soft and supple as Hermione pressed herself against the wall and out of sight.

‘Sorry. I got caught up behind a group of seventh years.’ he said, not looking at her. ‘Is there any particular reason why you slipped me a note asking to meet me here and now - you know there are people around.’

‘I am still waiting for you to do the deed Draco,’ she whispered. Hermione noted that Pancy sounded desperate, eager and scared.

‘It’s delicate Pansy. What would you like me to do? Shove it down their throat?’ if Pansy was scared, then Draco was clearly terrified. Hermione wished she could see his face, be able to see what he was thinking and feeling.

‘You know the condition,’ she almost spat at him. ‘This rests of both of us - we both have something we want left unsaid so...you know what you need to do.’

‘How much time can you give me?’ he asked her, almost in a whisper. Hermione could hear how close they were, hear the fabric of the respective cloaks moving against each other. She clenched her eyes closed trying to banish the mental image this drew up. There was a deafening silence between the pair and Hermione almost prayed to a God that she did not believe in, prayed that he wasn’t touching her with his hands, prayed that she was not kissing him.

‘Two days at most.’

* * *

Notes: Hello beautiful humans! I wanted to, of course, thank everyone who is still with me on this journey. The story was never intentionally meant to be this long, but somewhere along the way a secondary plot developed and I had to follow it for the sake of you, my dear readers. I have an apology for all my lovely and amazing Draco fans (he is my baby boy too) but there had been some confusion about the changes in him - I promise this is not turning into a Draco bashing story, it will all make sense in the long run. Forever yours - Shannona XxX


	24. Chapter 24

‘I’m sorry again...about this,’ said Hermione as she walked towards the fire of Grimmauld Place, turning to face her best friend and wringing her hands together.

‘Hermione, it’s absolutely fine. You know we love having him.’ said Ron, his arms laden with another bag of clothes and toys she had given them. He placed them on the table as she continued to mildly panic.

‘I know, but overnight is a litte…’ 

She wanted to say overwhelming, but deep down she knew that the two of them would be fine. 

Since she had had Scorpius, Harry and Ron had babysat him multiple times and they had Teddy around more than twice a week. With their own little one on the way they were practically gagging for more practise and she knew this wasn’t some silly social experiment, knew they weren’t hiding any nerves from her. Truthfully, it was her who was nervous. Scorpius had never spent the night away and not having him in the next room would be disconcerting.

‘I can hear those brain muscles working Granger,’ Harry said, as he strode back into the kitchen, Scorpius sitting on his hip. Hermione gasped a little at the sight of him holding her beautiful boy, he looked so at ease and comfortable. ‘We promise to call you if anything is wrong. Little snake, say goodbye to mama.’ he whispered into Scorpius' ear as he walked towards her.

‘Goodnight my prince,’ she said into Scorpius' cheek as she placed a firm kiss there. He smiled sleepily at her and moved his chubby hand towards her, grabbing a fistful of her curly hair, she released herself with a smile.

‘Will you promise to floo is you need anything else?’ Harry asked as he stepped back.

‘Of course I will. I will probably be back in the morning to get him. I won’t leave it too late...I…’

‘Hermione,’ started Ron, laying a comforting hand on her upper arm. ‘Please don’t rush. You have things going on...you both do...this is what we are here for. Just go home and take care of your husband.’

She wanted to cry, wanted to laugh and smile at them. Sometimes, she wondered at the marvel of her friends. How endearing, supportive and protective they were; how no ask was too big for them. 

‘Send him our love,’ Harry said as he kissed her on the cheek and pushed her towards the fire once again. With a final, fleeting look at the boys with her baby, she stepped into the green flames and came spinning into her living room once more.

Looking around she was worried to see that Draco was not where she had left him; on the sofa with a glass of firewhisky to calm the shaking, and set off through the house to find him. When she entered the kitchen she saw two tumblers missing from the glass shelf, and the alcohol cupboard still open, but the firewhiskey was absent from the bench. It was only when Hermione made it halfway up the stairs that she heard the water running in the bathroom. She entered the bedroom to see him perched on the end of the bed, his face trained on his own hands clasped in front of him, an empty tumbler and the bottle at his feet. When she walked over to him, he looked up and met her eyes, a far away look greeted her.

‘Are they okay to have him?’ he asked in a small voice. ‘Is he okay?’

‘Of course he is,’ she said, kneeling in front him and wrapping her own hands around his. ‘The boys send their love.’

He simply nodded and his head returned to its previous position, bent down to take in the view of her hands covering his. Taking in his appearance, it shook Hermione that this was the first time in several years that he had looked like this. His usually angular face was puffy and splotched red from the crying he had already done that night. His eyes twinkled with the remnants of unshed tears and she could feel his hands shaking under her. He was breathing through his nose; one of his grounding techniques, and she could feel, rather than see, the clenching and unclenching of his sharp jawline. She lifted her hand to cup the jaw and watched in wonder as he melted into her skin and pressed a loving and gentle kiss to the palm of her hand.

‘Are you having a bath?’ Hermione asked, realising the water had stopped next door.

‘No,’ he looked at her with what she could only describe as his angelically grey eyes. ‘You had a long day, I wanted to make sure you were okay.’

If she thought her heart had broken as he was curled against her downstairs, Hermione knew she was wrong at that moment. Absorbing her husband's words, taking in his demeanor and everything he had struggled with in the last few hours, she knew that she was unconditionally loved by this man. A man who had lost someone and still had time to think of her and ensure that she was looked after. That was when her heart broke.

‘Join me,’ she pleaded with him. And with a small nod, he lifted himself off the bed and followed her to the bathroom.

  
  


* * *

Hermione prided herself on the simple image that she was not a fool. Years of being told that she was not good enough; in the muggle world not being cool enough for friends, in the magical world not being pure enough to be the best, had driven her further and further to her own self assurances. She may not be the most social adept, but after hearing what Pansy and Draco had spoken about, she was sure that she was not going to be made a fool of.

She had two days, at most, to enjoy what little she could about the boy she had fallen for and she wanted to take it in whatever capacity he would offer her. If she had spoken to anyone; Ginny or Theo, they would tell her to fight, but she didn’t think she had the will to fight any longer. Whatever he was doing was for a good reason, she had learnt long ago that fighting against someone who had made a poor decision did nothing but push them further and further away. Harry had taught her that.

As she walked towards their common room that night, her face drawn and her chest heavy, she wondered if she was moving towards the gallows with every step that she took. Of course, Hermione did not want to be overdramatic, logically whatever two days from now brought her would not kill her; she had things to focus on and couldn’t let this distract her. Would she lose something she felt that she couldn’t live without? Yes. Would she have to say goodbye to someone that meant so much to her? Probably. But she had done it once before for the good of others and she was strong enough to do it again.

He was already there when she entered and did not look up from his revision for the next day's afternoon exam; Defense Against the Dark Arts. Her resolve almost broke as she stood in the middle of the room sweeping her eyes over him. He looked devastating. From the fine blonde hairs falling down in front of his eyes, the soft part of his lips as he focussed on his own words, the two buttons undone on his shirt that, with the absence of his tie, showed the pale flesh of his chest, down to his bare feet pushed into the plush carpet next to the hearth. She felt her heart quicken and, losing an ounce of control, licked her lips. If this was going to be goodbye, it would be on her terms, and in a way that she would never forget.

‘You are staring Granger,’ he said, lifting his face and staring at her. ‘I really am not in the mood to fight with you today,’ he sighed as he took in her stance. She had to agree, his tired expression and slumped body told her that he was not up for a fight.

‘Lucky for you I am not here to fight with you Draco,’ she answered him, standing her ground and staring him down. He closed his book and leaned back in the chair, observing her in a way that made her feel like she was a new and unique potions ingredient. He quirked an eyebrow at her.

‘But you look so determined today,’ he smirked. ‘What has got you all riled up?’ He was playing with her again, for someone who didn’t want a fight he was trying to edge for one. Maybe he was just as scared as her at what was coming in two days - at this point Hermione resigned herself to the fact that she would never know.

There was a silence as she thought about what to say to him, bringing her own courage to the bubbling surface of her chest to say what she really wanted. He almost lost interest, the thumb of his hands skimming along the corner of a textbook.

‘I want you to fuck me,’ she said, already feeling the flush that erupted across her cheeks.

If Draco had been expecting anything, it had not been that. An image of shock flickered across his eyes and he immediately looked down to his own knees. She wondered if that small area of skin on show had turned pink in the blush he was clearly trying to hide from her. But she was patient; even though her heart was hammering against her ribs like a caged tiger, even though she was hot in her cloak, he wanted to wait for him to respond. Without warning, he rose from the chair and threw his book on the small table in front of him and made towards his bedroom.

‘Wait,’ she said, her voice urgent as it fell from her lips. Hermione was surprised that he stopped and turned to her.

‘What?’ Draco asked, his voice steady.

‘I want you to fuck me,’ she repeated, this time without the flush.

‘Why?’ he asked her.

This stopped her. If Hermione told him the real reason for this outburst, he would never touch her, never let her give into the emotions that were coursing through her. If she didn’t tell him anything then he would walk away from her, he would never touch her. Hermione was now, like so many times before her, stuck between two doors of black flames and a riddle laid out between them. She had to work through the puzzle with logic, the one skill she prized above all others in the magical world. What could she say that would mean his hands would be on her? It came to her like a flash of thunder.

‘Who knows what will happen in two days.’’

He let out a hollow laugh that made it sound like he had been punched in the gut and turned his head away from her. When he took in a deep breath and looked back at her she almost gasped to see the tears welling in his eyes.

‘Hermione...;’ he started to say but she cut him off.

‘Don’t! Not now. Just….just…’

‘Just what?’ he whispered, shrugging at her and Hermione could see there was no hope left in his eyes.

Closing the distance between them felt natural and yet so difficult for her to do. He flinched as she lifted her hand to cup the left side of his face but he did not pull away as she placed it on his skin. She could feel the slight stubble of his five o’clock shadow as her thumb grazed his cheek. Draco closed his eyes and pushed his face harder into her hand, clenching his jaw as if he were in pain and trying to control himself. Hermione moved her other hand to rest on his chest, a whimper escaped her as she felt the thumping on his own heart and she dropped her forehead to join her hand. He was warm beneath her, his chilly exterior of the last few weeks melting away under her. She felt, rather than saw, his hands move; one covered hers on his face and the other laced through her unmanageable curls and rested at the base of her neck, gently squeezing and pulling her flush against him. 

Lifting her head, brown eyes met steely grey and, as she slid her hand from his cheek to the back of his neck, she wondered whether he would pull away. But instead, he moved his face towards her and captured her lips in a kiss that was so soft, she would have told anyone that it had come from an angel. Moving her lips against his was akin to tasting the honey of the gods and she felt a stone drop into her body knowing that this could be the very last time she was able to savour it. 

The sweet and gentle kiss, however, did not last long and within minutes their kissing had reached a fever pitch and her hand in his hair was grabbing him with ferocity. Hermione could feel the slow burning building deep within her and it pushed her hands to slowly undo all of his shirt buttons and move down to tug at his belt. Draco broke the kiss, pulling away and looking to the ceiling letting out a noise like a wounded animal before diving to her collarbone and sucking. She moaned, grinding her body against his as she managed to loosen the button on his trousers and push them and his boxers to the floor, taking him in her hand and shivering at the noise he made against her skin.

It was all too much for Draco as he pulled away and divested her of her cloak and robe, dropping to his knees and placing his lips all over her thighs as his hands travelled under her skirt and to the hem of her underwear. She moaned and arched towards him, willing him to move faster when he stopped completely, his hands gripping the back of her thighs, his head hanging loosely in front of her. 

‘Draco.’ she whispered and his head shot up to look at her. Somewhere deep inside, she was telling herself to stop, that this was clearly killing him. The devastation was written on his face and pushing him to do this was only going to hurt them both. But that voice was drowned by the Hermione that she often kept hidden; the one that wanted him to know what he was going to miss, wanted him to feel the pain that two days time would bring her. 

‘Please.’ she simply said. It was not a beg or a plea, it was an instruction and he reacted to it in the way she wanted, pulling down her underwear and rising to his feet, grabbing her body and placing a searing kiss on her already swollen lips. 

Hermione pulled him towards the sofa, pushing him down and swiftly moving onto him, straddling his shaking body as her hands roamed over his pale shoulders and he deepened their kiss. She rose slightly, positioning him and, with trembling thighs, she lowered herself onto him as slowly as she could dare, savouring the feeling of him filling her completely. Pride burning in her chest as she watched him drop his head back to the sofa cushions, gripping her hips with incredible force.

‘Oh Hermione…’ he groaned through gritted teeth as she buried him to the hilt inside her and circled her hips.

She started to move against him, rolling her hips and pushing her body against his in a dance they had performed more times than she could count. Her hands clawing at his shoulders for support as the slow burning reached the point of a fire as they rose and fell together. His hands roaming over her skin, his lips tracing kisses across her bra and the scar of her arm.

‘Yes Hermione…’ he moaned again, as if saying it would make this real, would cement this moment in his mind. But Hermione had no words to speak, biting down on her lip at the million phrases that were threatening to jump off her tongue at the overwhelming senses licking at her skin. 

Draco started to thrust his own hips to meet hers and she could see in his face that he was chasing the same thing as her, the sweet release of being together. Not wanting to get there for fear that his would be over could not match the intense scorching that erupted in her body when he angled himself and hit something deep within her. Throwing back her head, unable to control herself any more, she screamed against him, wrapping her hand around the back of his neck and rocking through her own climax behind the white that had exploded across her eyes.

When she opened them again, she realised she was still moving against him with fervour and Draco’s head was buried against her chest. He looked up to her and she saw something in his eyes, desperation and despair lined the storm inside.

‘Please...please…’ he was whispering to her. ‘I’m sorry...;’ his breath hitching in his voice as he uttered the only apology she was going to get from him before, he too, followed her in his own climax.

They sat like that for a while, trapped in each other’s embrace as their breathing returned to some semblance of normal. His hands tracing small patterns on her lower back as she rubbed her thumbs against the nail indents she had made on his shoulders, a small part of her wishing she could make them permanent. Before long, she started to feel a chill on her skin and so she rose gently on trembling legs and righted her skirt before looking down at him.

‘Where are you going?’ he asked in a shaky voice, lightly gripping her hand in his.

‘I’m going to my bedroom.’ she said, trying to move away, but caught in the grip that had tightened. Hermione looked to their hands, seeing her own tiny hand in his overly large one and then looked at his face. This was what he had been waiting for as, with a blank expression, he spoke.

‘Goodnight Hermione,’ he said to her.

‘Goodbye Draco,’ she replied.

He released her, letting her walk to the pile that was her clothes, picking them off the floor and moving slowly up the stone stairs to her room. She did not turn her head to look at him, resisting the temptation to curl up with him in front of the fireplace. As she climbed into her room and shut the door, collapsing against it to slide to the floor she wondered what she would have seen if she had. Would he have re-dressed and gone back to revision? Would he have left? Little did Hermione know, she would have seen Draco’s body fall forward, his hands covering his face as his shoulders shook in silent sobs.

It was hours later, when she awoke in the middle of the night, that she realised something was wrong with her room. Draco’s pile of books was absent from her bedside table, the bathroom door, which had been closed when she went to sleep, was now open and the light was falling across the room like moonlight. But most alarming of all, Draco now stood in the light, watching her as she sat up and took in his demeanor. For the second time in her memory, his angular face was puffy and red and his usually straight posture was slumped. If she had to hazard a guess, she would have said that he looked beaten as he stood before her, shirtless.

‘Draco,’ she murmured, pressing the palms of her hands into her own eyes to ensure that he was really there. When she pulled them back, he remained and moved forward. It was then that she saw how bloodshot his eyes were as he looked upon her.

‘What’s happened?’ she asked him, concern that she could not keep at bay flooded her system. He blinked a few times, and Hermione could see the heaviness of his eyelids as if he had tried hard to sleep, but had failed - a nightmare?

‘Can I lay with you?’ he asked, his voice cracked and hoarse, so quiet it was almost as if he had not said anything at all. 

Hermione let her eyes wander over his form and, against her better judgement, shifted to allow him space on her mattress. Without a pause, he moved to sit on the bed, laying on his side and throwing his head into the pillow next to her head. Hermione turned to face him, watching the bathroom light bounce off his hair and sighed. Draco was staring so intently at her, as if trying to memorise every feature before the inevitable hit them and his lips parted, as if he wanted to say something. But Hermione knew that whatever he said would change them irrevocably and so she placed a finger to his lips, shaking her head to stop him. 

And for the first time in their relationship, Draco moved towards her and buried himself in her chest, his hands fisting in the front of her nightshirt as he shrunk against her body. She wanted to say something, to comfort him, to tell him that it would be okay, that he would be okay without her - but the words failed her as she felt his shoulders begin to shake and her chest start to become wet with his tears. She stayed frozen, wondering what had happened for him to break down but knew she could not ask, so she settled to wrap her arms around him, giving him the comfort she knew he would not be able to give her when the time came. As she listened to the sound of him crying, she closed her eyes trying not to think about the pain she had seen etched across his face once before, praying that she would not have to see it again.

  
  
  


_ The days were seemingly endless, so awash with meetings and press conferences and grief that Hermione wondered when the three of them would have any time to breathe at all. The ache pressed down upon her like a fortuitous weight making her days unbearable and her nights insufferable. They had not left the ground of the castle since the battle; the Order making it clear that it was now the base of the final clear-up organisation as well as the backdrop for the countless interviews they had been made to attend. _

_ Hermione could see it everywhere, an unspoken grief that people carried with them as they tried to celebrate the end of the war; a victory that had seemed so unattainable. Harry had sat through interviews with a smile, replying no comment to every paper that asked him anything, his hands gripped at his sides as he fought the internal urge to scream. Ron was unusually subdued, refusing to leave the tower for anyone other than Harry and herself, sitting on the window ledge and sneaking firewhiskey when his mother wasn’t looking. Hermione found herself wandering aimlessly through the castle at all hours of the night. _

_ It wasn’t particularly soothing, running her hands down the scorch marks on the stone walls and rips of the ancient painting, but it helped her feel...something. Something that wasn’t pain and pressure. She had been numb to happiness and relief, numb to love and friendship. And now, as she climbed to the Astronomy tower, she realised that she had become numb to the elements - not even really feeling the late spring wind that bit at her ankles as she climbed the staircase. _

_ She had hoped to sit, overlooking the grounds and feel relief. To see the world from up high, the world they have saved from destruction, she hoped would bring her some semblance of peace. But any idea of peace was broken when, as she reached the empty space with its large open glassless windows left entirely untouched by the battle, someone else was already there. _

_ ‘Oh, sorry I…’ she started, but stopped when she saw the person standing there; tall, sharp and blonde. ‘Malfoy!’  _

_ ‘Granger! What brings you up here on this horrible evening?’ he asked, a smirk evidently visible on his face. _

_ ‘I couldn’t sleep. You?’ she surprised herself with how honest she was being with him, but then again, of the few conversations she had had with him over the past few months, she had been nothing but honest with him. It was odd, to feel that sense of trust in someone she had despised for so long. _

_ ‘Who sleeps anymore!’ Draco almost laughed. ‘I just came up here to await my fate!’ _

_ She edged towards where he was standing, placing herself shoulder to shoulder with him against the barriers, looking out over the school grounds. Although there was still evidence of the battle below, if she looked far enough across the forest and lake, she could almost see the edge of hope on the horizon. _

_ ‘Your fate?’ she asked. ‘A bit Trelawney of you.’ _

_ Draco broke his stature and leant his elbow on the railing, bowing his head on his hands and sighing. _

_ ‘Very funny Granger,’ he said simply. ‘But no - my actual fate.’ He looked up at her and she could see now, his face was unusually red, splotched across his abnormally high cheekbones. His eyes were bloodshot and, although he might be able to pass it off as the chill from the night air, there were unshed tears hanging in his eyes. ‘Tomorrow they remove me from the grounds to Azkaban, where I am to sit and await trial for all my misdeeds’. _

_ Draco drew up again, his eyes travelling from the ground in front of him to Hermione next to him, who had furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. _

_ ‘Azkaban? But you don’t deserve to be there!’ she said even before she had thought about it.  _

_ ‘Don’t I Granger? I think your arm tells a different story, among other things.’ _

_ ‘But the Order can…’ _

_ ‘The Order is not the ministry. I was a spy Granger - the key there was secrecy and to make sure there was no trail. I have to stand trial so they can ascertain what my role was and if I actually did anything to help. Shaklebolt has told me that the Ministry does not want to make the same mistakes as last time and let Death Eaters walk free because of influence and money.’ _

_ It was then that Hermione saw the real issue behind the situation and saw the fear behind his eyes. She understood that he would know better than anyone what awaited him in Azkaban, his father would have made sure he knew. Pity flooded her as she took in the form of a boy waiting to be shipped off like a man _

_ ‘You’re trial is a formality. You know that Harry will speak.’ _

_ ‘What if I don’t want Saint Potter to save me? What if I want to rot away?’ _

_ He pushed himself off the railing and walked away, facing the back wall of the tower and running his hands through his hair. This was something she had never seen the cool and collected Draco Malfoy do, that was an action for the impulsive and reckless. That was how Hermione knew he didn’t want to be left to rot, but thought he deserved to be. Six months ago, Hermione would have gladly left him there, but without him they would have not been standing there today. _

_ ‘You think I don’t want to rot away as well?’ she asked, feeling self conscious as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled at the frayed ends. _

_ ‘And what would make anyone as pretty as you want to do that?’ he asked. She laughed at his joke and shook her head. She was a flicker of confusion across him, before he righted himself and smirked back at her. _

_ ‘I am sure that you, better than most, know what it’s like to feel a little numb.’ _

_ He nodded at her, his eyes flickering towards her left arm and then turned towards the stairs. _

_ ‘Don’t.’ she said. This stopped him in his tracks and he turned to face her again. _

_ ‘Don’t what?’ he asked. _

_ ‘Don’t rot away...please.’ _

_ He smirked and ran his hands once more through his hair before his smirk turned into a smile, speaking before he turned to leave. _

_ ‘Anything for you Granger.’ _

_ And it was then that the chill of the air hit her, as she watched the back of his head descend the steps and leave her alone at the top of the tower. For the first time in over two weeks, Hermione felt something more than endless grief. _

  
  


Just like every morning that week, she awoke alone in her bed and did not bother to feel the empty space on the other side of the mattress. Hermione assumed that after last night's performance, he was probably too embarrassed to see her, or did not want to engage in another round of whatever it was that had happened.

Her dream of the astronomy tower had been so real that she was not surprised that the numb feeling that she remembered from those horrible weeks after the battle had followed her into her waking hours. It was his face that stuck with her as the morning light greeted her, the same face as the previous night. 

She rose and moved slowly to the bathroom, feeling the familiar ache in her thighs from over-exerting herself as she glided towards the cold tiles. Looking up, she saw Draco’s bedroom door ajar and peered inside, but he was not there - nothing was. Taking a precarious step into the room, she slowly turned to see that everything was gone. The bed was stripped, the open wardrobe empty of his pretentious clothing, his books, his quills...everything was gone.

At almost a run, she headed back to her own room and threw on her robes. As she did so, she could feel something in the pit of her stomach and her head chanting the words ‘two days’ over and over again. As she made her way down the stone stairs, she flung her hair into a ponytail and meant to break into a run across the common room, but ran straight into Blaise and Theo. They had clearly not been expecting her this early in the morning as they stopped and stared with open mouths.

‘What are you two doing here?’ she asked, a little out of breath.

They did not reply and she used the moment of silence to take them both in. Theo was not looking at her, just staring at the floor between them and Blaise had something behind his back.

‘What are you doing?’ she asked again, softly. ‘What do you have in your hand Blaise?’

‘Hermione - we don’t really want to get involved but…’ Theo started, but was stopped when Hermione held up her hand and stared intently at Blaise.

‘Is that a bag of Draco’s things behind your back by any chance Zabini?’ she asked, keeping her voice steady and raising her eyebrows. Blaise dropped the bag and stared back at her.

‘We are just doing what a friend has asked us to.’ he said to her.

‘Where is he?’ she asked, looking to Theo who met her eye with a nervous energy. 

‘Theo...where is Draco?’ he pushed. Neither of them answered her so she left them there. Something told her exactly where she would find him.

She hated herself for being able to find him so quickly. As she stepped into the morning sun crossing the lawn at the front of the castle, he was immediately recognisable against the green backdrop. He was standing, leaning against the tree by the lake, the tree where they had shared their first kiss. Something inside her laughed at the romanticism of the scene before her, but it was lost against the sound of her own blood pounding in her ears.

‘How did I know I would find you here?’ Hermione said to his back. Draco did not turn to look at her, just slipped his hands into his pockets and heaved a sigh. ‘Would you like to explain why your room has nothing in it?’

‘I am moving back into the Slytherin Common Room for a while - to give you some space. Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn have agreed.’ 

‘And why do I need space Draco?’

Draco turned to face her now. She did not know what she had been expecting when she saw his face. Maybe she wanted to see the same bloodshot eyes and red puffy face from the previous night. Maybe she wanted tears trailing down his pale cheeks as proof that last night had happened, that he had been able to break with her more than with anyone else. What she did see, and what did not surprise her, was the stony face of Draco Malfoy, stripped of emotion.

‘I think you know why Granger.’

‘I would rather hear it from you.’ Hermione was shocked to hear her voice sound so small against his clinical one. Draco took his hands out of his pocket and hung them loosely at his sides.

‘This isn’t going to work anymore Hermione.’ he said, closing the distance between them and forcing her to look up to meet his face. ‘You can’t do this anymore. I can’t do this anymore.’

Even though she had felt it coming from a mile away, realised that two days was a luxury she never had, it still felt like a slap across the face to hear it from him. In an instant, everything that had happened between them, the touches, the laughing, the kisses and the danger; it flashed in front of her - a montage of them and now it was all nothing. She could see it in his eyes, it meant nothing to him anymore.

‘Do I at least get a reason.’

‘Whatever I say, you won’t believe me.’ he smirked.

‘Try me.’ she said, although she was sure what he said was correct. 

‘I don’t want to tell you,’ he said, his resolve breaking as his hand came to move a curl that had drifted across her face. ‘If I do, you will think that everything was a lie. And I promise you it wasn’t.’

‘If you don’t want me to think that, then why do it at all Draco? Whatever is happening, I can help you, we can help you. You know that!’ she found herself grabbing at the front of his cloak, fisting her hands into the material and pulling at him in desperation.

‘I can’t!’ he said through gritted teeth. ‘It’s over.’ He said, pushing her away and taking a step back.

‘Draco!’ she cried. ‘Just say it!’ He looked at her with wild eyes as she spoke. ‘Don’t be a coward!’ she muttered at him.

‘A coward...is that what you think I am?’ he asked. ‘Fine!’ he took a deep breath and shot a look to the blue sky above. ‘When I came back over Easter without you...I slept with Pansy!’

If the floor hadn’t fallen out from beneath her before, Hermione felt it now. Her vision swirled in front of her as she took him in, the pounding in her ears disappearing only to be replaced by deafening silence.

‘You what?’ she whispered back at him. 

‘I slept with Pansy, Hermione.’ Draco was now staring into the distance behind her. His hands, which had curled into fists, were now shaking and he was shuffling his feet.

‘You were right -’ Hermione said, praying to anyone that could hear her that the tears swimming in her vision would not fall as she stood before him. ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

* * *

Notes: A little bit of a shorter Chapter for you this time around. I have been trying to build to this moment and getting very frustrated with myself for the right way to play it off. Please, keep your comments coming - I love reading them and hearing suggestions and taking some of them on (to be honest I am nothing if not one big people pleaser). I love you all.


	25. Chapter 25

Over the years it had become clear to Hermione that there was more Slytherin in her than she had originally realised. The Sorting Hat had never spoken to her at length when she wore it, never whispered undeniable truths into her ear, like it had for Harry. It’s answer had been the lion and she was more than happy to accept it. Harry had once said that Dumbledore thought they sorted the students of Hogwarts too early, that there was so much more to them that he attributes given to them at the age of eleven. It had been somewhere around her 21st birthday that Hermione, looking back on her Hogwarts career and the wars she had faced, had come to agree.

Her husband liked to tell her, on more than one occasion, that she was beyond terrifying and that her smirk could rival his own. He would always glow with pride when he bragged at parties about his wife who kept a reporter in a jar, his wife who illegally brewed polyjuice potion at the age of 12, his wife who rode a dragon out of Gringotts. To most, these were the stories of a hero, to Draco, they were the stories of a Slytherin in denial. Everyone in the world, it would seem, called her a Gryffindor through and through, like if there was a prize for bleeding red and gold, she would have won it. Only one other person dared to tell her that, although on the outside she was painted the colours of the lion, her veins ran the green of the snake.

‘How is he doing?’ Theo asked as they sat down at a coffee shop in Diagon Alley.

After they had left school, Theo had forced her to set up a bi-weekly meet; something at the time they both had needed to try to accept what had happened. In the early days, it had been heavy with alcohol and regret, Hermione sure to drown herself in the fumes of seedy pubs and grotty alleyways. In time, they had mutually agreed that coffee was the safest thing for the both of them and in the years that had followed, Hermione knew that she had changed a great deal. Theodore Nott, however, had stayed, annoyingly, the same. His dark brown hair was still neatly coiffed, his green eyes sparkling against his tanned skin and his Slytherin smirk had been glued to his face. He was still ‘chasing skirt’, as he liked to put it, and causing Hermione to roll her eyes at every comment he made. This week, however, he was a little more concerned with her blonde than any other that walked down the street.

‘He seems better,’ she told him, wrapping her hands around her warm mug and taking in his concerned face. ‘He is back to where he was the day before the funeral.’

The past few weeks had been up and down in the Malfoy household; with Draco stepping towards the end of grief only to be dragged back under the surface by news articles, preparations and then the funeral service itself. Hermione had seen this kind of grief before, on her own face in the mirror, and so knew that all he needed was time.

‘It’s hard for me to understand it to be honest,’ Theo admitted. ‘Yeah, I lost my father - but there was no love lost between us. He had been an arse my entire life and he never once did anything to protect me. Lucius was a different story.’

‘He does seem to be struggling with the duality of it - and you know how stubborn he is. One minute it's all ‘he was a terrible person’ and the next he is telling me a story about how they would spend endless days in the meadow behind the manor.’

‘He had been a good man,’ Theo agreed with her. ‘Sometimes, our lust for power and what it can bring to our families is just too great a lure. I think what Draco is really facing is the prospect of accepting his father was a weak man.’

‘Theo - he keeps telling me he is just like Lucius. He won’t listen to reason. He is so sure that I will just get up and leave like his mother.’

The pair fell into an uneasy silence while They tried to find the words to counter this. For a moment, Hermione was on the edge of admitting that he would agree with Draco but then he turned his head to look out of the shop window, observing the passers-by and Hermione had to wonder what was going through his head.

The two of them had been through a lot in their years of friendship - it was what had cemented their relationship at the beginning but continued to mark it now. It was an unending fear that Draco would do something stupid and he would be torn away.

‘Do you ever think about it Hermione?’ he asked her in a shallow voice. Her heart stopped.

‘Theo - I thought we agreed not to…’ she started but his chuckling interrupted her.

‘Not that!’ he laughed before swallowing, his face falling to a frown ‘I mean - do you visit the grave?’

For a moment, Hermione wondered what she should say to him. Swallowing hard, she looked him in the eye and decided not to lie.

‘Yes. Every year.’ 

‘Do you not think about the duality of him then? As you stare down at that grey stone, that beautiful carving shoved in your face - do you not wonder what could have been? What might have been?’

‘Theo…’ she could feel the thump in her throat rising as he spoke. There was a reason they had agreed to never speak of the matter. ‘If I think about that, I would never get out of bed in the morning. Draco would never be able to live with himself. Scorpius wouldn’t even exist.’

‘So maybe that’s what Draco needs,’ Theo said, a small smile at the corner of his mouth. ‘He needs someone like you to distract him from all that is happening.’

She nodded her agreement before taking a sip of her latte, feeling the spice run down her throat and settle in her nervous stomach. Theo suddenly smiled and laughed.

‘What?’ she asked him, trying not to laugh at the childish look on his face.

‘You thought I was going to bring  _ that _ up didn’t you?’ he wiggled his eyebrows at her and she shook her head.

‘Theo. We said no to…’

‘It’s okay Granger. I can live the rest of my day happy knowing you think about it too’ he laughed.

‘Honestly Theo, you are incorrigible.’

  
  


* * *

  
  


‘Can you all please put down your quills, your final exam is now over.’

Hermione felt numb as she lowered her quill to the desk in front of her, hearing the rest of the hall break into raucous cheers as they celebrated the end of the exams, the end of their Hogwarts career. She smiled along with Ginny as she turned to face her with a thumbs up, she nodded to the concerned faces of Theo and Blaise and lifted herself from the chair to join the line of students piling out of the hall and onto the lawns. Hermione did not join them. She turned right and started the climb to the dormitory, trying to make sure she had not been followed.

She had let herself be distracted by the exams all week, since she had left him standing by the tree, knowing that nothing could get in the way of the future she had planned for herself. She ignored the deep down cramping that told her it was over, the emptiness that threatened to envelop her and dove into her revision. In a way, she was grateful for the way in which he had done it, the timing meaning that she did not have space to wallow over him...or them. All she could do was knuckle down for the next paper, the next practical exam and keep her eyes set on the horizon.

She did not look around for him, something that she had had to force herself not to do all week, pushing down the anger and upset that threatened to rise within her at all times. As she pushed past the tapestry and threw herself into an armchair, she could not help now let the feeling she had evaded all week catch up with her. Hermione had thought it would have been easier with the dormitory now empty except for her, that is what Draco had wanted for her, but it was not. The empty rooms were now a reminder of everything they had lost, everything she had to bury. The words, the kisses, the touches - his soft moans and her gentle hands flying across her eyes like an unbidden movie. Once, there was everything - now there was nothing. Not even an apology bake rested upon the table to keep her company.

A noise from the tapestry made her turn her head quickly, wondering if he had come to speak to her. But Theo stood there looking sheepish and with half a smile walked over to her.

‘Hey,’ he said as she slumped back in the armchair.

‘Hey,’ she answered. ‘You okay?’

‘I was going to ask you the same thing!’ he laughed as he chucked himself onto the sofa.

‘I don’t need looking after, Theo,’ she admonished him. ‘I am perfectly fine. Ecstatic even, now that exams are over.’

‘Granger,’ he started, but stopped obviously thinking about the way he wanted to speak to her. ‘Hermione, it’s okay to hate him for this. I hate him for this.’

‘Why would you hate him for this? Isn’t this what all of Slytherin wanted all along? For their Prince to bed the lion and then leave.’ Hermione knew she was being spiteful, knew that she was lashing out at him because she couldn’t lash out at Draco, but she just couldn’t stop herself. Theo screwed up his face.

‘All Slytherins ey? You think this is what I wanted? What Blaise wanted?’

‘It’s what Pansy wanted.’ she bit back at him.

‘Fuck Pansy!’ he almost screamed at her and Hermione froze, shocked at the way he spoke. ‘She is a bitch! She only cares about herself! So what if it’s what she wanted?’ his voice became soft as he continued. ‘Don’t let her dictate what you and Draco have - what you have.’

‘She already has Theo,’ Hermione sighed. ‘When she pulled Draco back into her bed, she killed it. And he helped her.’

There was silence between them as Theo watched Hermione sceptically.

‘What are you talking about?’ he asked her, his face covered in confusion. Hermione took a deep breath; this would be the first person she told about Pansy and Draco. She hadn’t even been able to say it out loud to herself, the pain of the betrayal was almost too much for her to bear.

‘He slept with her, Theo. He slept with Pansy in the break,’ she muttered, turning her head away to stare at the empty fireplace.

‘No he didn’t!’ Theo exclaimed, almost as if he wanted to stop himself from believing it. When Hermione looked back, his face was the picture of confusion and mistrust.

‘That’s what he told me. He said he slept with her and that he couldn’t do this anymore. I am sure if you ask him, he will tell you the same thing.’ Theo let out a breath and stood up.

‘I’m sorry! I have to go!’ he said, and walked out leaving her, once again, alone in the Head’s common room.

‘Where are you first?’ Ginny asked at the Gryffindor table on Monday morning, looking over and grabbing the timetable she had just been handed.

Now that NEWTs were over, classes had been cancelled for the seventh and eighth years and replaced with four weeks of career’s talks, lectures and practical training. This was something new to the school, something the Ministry had thought was vital in the new order to ensure that students were well versed on their options away from education. With so many lost over the last few years, the Ministry was struggling to fill positions, and if they did they were finding that a lot of people were not suited to the jobs they had applied for. This way, the youth of the magical community were able to make informed decisions and the ministry and other careers were able to promote themselves. More importantly, for Hermione at least, it meant that experts and trainee’s in chosen fields were coming to stay for the month and she was more excited to speak to them after hours than learn anything from them. Hermione knew what she wanted, she wanted to help those who couldn’t speak for themselves and knew that working in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was where she would be able to make the most difference.

‘I think she is with us Miss Weasley,’ came a voice from behind her and she swung around. For the first time that week, Hermione grinned, jumping up and pulled both Harry and Ron into a death grip. They laughed as they threw their arms around her, ignoring the wild stares and whispers that had erupted around the hall. Pulling back away from them, she realised they were dressed in their burgundy Auror robes and standing next to them in her school uniform felt slightly absurd.

‘What are you doing here?’ she asked them, her face suddenly falling, looking at them with concern.

‘Nothing to worry about - the DMLE sent us as the Auror trainees for the sessions.’ Ron smiled at her.

‘Not to mention that Ron may have shouted our names out when it was offered in the meeting three weeks ago,’ Harry laughed, elbowing Ron in the ribs.

‘This is so great, I am so happy to see you,’ she said again, relieved that they were here and leant in to hug Harry again.

‘How long are you guys here?’ asked Ginny, who had run around the table into the arms of her brother.

‘For the next three weeks,’ Ron answered. ‘So you are gonna have to put up with me, sorry!’

‘Ah, Mr Potter, Mr Weasley; I hope that you have settled into your rooms?’ asked Professor McGonagall as she walked up to them.

‘Yes Professor,’ smiled Harry. ‘Thank you so much for letting us stay while we conduct the lessons, it is going to be nice to spend some time in the castle.’

‘Of coure Potter, I wouldn’t want anything less. Just a reminder that I am sure Professor Dumbledore would like to see you while you are here,’ she gave him a slight smile before she continued. ‘I suppose you will want to go and set your classroom up for your morning talk. I will leave you to it.’

‘Thank you Professor,’ said Ron as she smiled and turned back towards the teacher table. ‘Come on, Hermione. Walk with us.’

As they set off through the school, Hermione could not help but smile at the idea that it was just like it had always been. As she walked, situated between the two of them, their shoes echoing off the walls of each corridor they passed down, the silence between them told her that they must be thinking the same thing. If Hermione closed her eyes, maybe she could imagine that they were all walking off to class together, that the looks and whispers that followed them were just the usual ones that followed Harry wherever he went and not directed to the trio as a whole. Maybe Hermione could imagine that the boy's robes were black and they were all heading to the common room to talk or play gobstones.

‘It doesn’t feel like it’s changed at all,’ said Ron, breaking the silence as he placed his arm around Hermione’s neck.

‘It’s strange,’ Harry commented. ‘You would think that after everything, it would be hard to be here, but with you two it’s just so normal. Like nothing even happened here.’

Looking over to him, Hermione could see the memories move in his eyes. 

‘Believe me, it doesn’t feel like that all the time,’ Hermione said as she strode between them. ‘It’s just because you are here!’

‘Hermione, where is Malfoy?’ Harry asked, smiling at her. ‘I expected to see him hanging off you when we walked in.’

She looked at him and hesitated. What could she tell them that wouldn’t make them furious? How would she explain to them what had happened over the last few weeks? But before she could say anything, a noise from up ahead stopped them. Shouting. With one look, the three of them ran towards the commotion and Hermione inwardly groaned at the sight that met them. It was Theo and Draco, obviously in the middle of a heated argument.

‘I don’t understand!’ Theo shouted at Draco, flinging his arms out.

‘I didn’t ask you to. It’s none of your business!’ Draco was shouting at him, his hair wild and mussed.

‘Draco - tell me what happened! Why the fuck does she think you screwed Pansy?’ Theo screamed at him. 

‘Because I fucking did!’ he screamed back, and Hermione looked to the floor, wanting to run in the opposite direction. Before she could even think to move her feet there was a dull thud. Shocked by the noise she lifted her head to see Theo clutching at his own fist in agony and Draco’s face covered in blood.

Harry and Ron leapt from her sides to restrain the boys as they launched at one another again. It was a tangle of limbs as Draco grabbed onto Theo and lifted his knee into his stomach and Theo tried, one again, to get in a punch before Ron grabbed him from behind and Harry was able to grab at Draco. The two of them struggled against the restraint, trying to get back to one another.

‘Alright!’ Harry said, his voice full of authority. ‘That’s enough!’

When the struggling had stopped, Ron let Theo go and said ‘Take a walk Nott!’. Theo shot a look at Draco before storming past Hermione, his face going red at having been caught. Hermione felt anger flare up towards him, whatever this was, she did not want anyone fighting for her. No matter what everyone had always thought, she was not meant to be protected, she had proved herself enough over the last few years to prove that she could handle herself. At the moment, she was just refusing to handle it in the way that people expected her to.

‘Get off me!’ Draco shouted as he pushed Harry away. ‘Thank fuck Potter was here to save the day!’ he spat at him, breathing heavily.

‘What is your problem Malfoy?’ asked Ron through gritted teeth.

‘Nothing Weasel!’ he said, pushing his hair up and out of his eyes, stopping when he looked at Hermione. Maybe he had not seen her before, but the way he looked at her told her he did not want to see her now. All four of them stood, Harry and Ron staring at Malfoy as the two of them were in, what Hermione’s father would have called, a mexican standoff.

‘Hermione…’ Ron said quietly and he saw Hermione grind her jaw. It was now that she was staring at him properly for the first time in a week, that she was able to take in his appearance without the interruption of others or her own memory. Hermione saw that he looked weak. His usual straight posture was slumped, his skin was tight and grey, his soft blonde hair showed the signs of grease and had lost its lustre. Should the sight of him looking so forlorn have given her pleasure? Should Hermione have wanted to see how badly he was treating himself, how badly his new girl treated him?

‘Is what he said true Hermione?’ asked Harry, and she could hear the anger in his voice.

At this, Draco scoffed, and turned to walk away but was stopped by Ron, who had grabbed him by the upper arm. Surprisingly, Draco didn’t pull away or attempt to fight back, just stood there, his head hanging limply from his frame.

‘Herrmione,’ Ron repeated Harry’s words. ‘Is what he said true? Did he sleep with someone else?’

‘Let him go, Ron!’ she said softly. Ron released him and Draco stalked away without a backwards glance. The two Aurors, her best friends, looked between themselves and then back at her, seemingly lost for words.

‘Hermione,’ said Harry. ‘Why didn’t you tell us?’ he sounded so pitiful, like he could not bear to see her in this way and it embarrassed her.

‘There was nothing to tell,’ she shrugged. ‘We had already said our goodbye. You know how good I am at those.’   
  


_ L _ _ ooking around her childhood bedroom, she was hit with a wave of nostalgia that she only ever felt within this house. Before the age of eleven, this room had been her sanctuary, with its high walls covered in books and star charts. Every inch of the light peach coloured paint covered in posters of great women throughout history and calendars marking our constellations. She would escape here after tiring days in the playground at her local school, and hide here when the children in the street overwhelmed her with their prejudice and her mother would join her, whispering comforting words to the daughter who found herself strange. _

_ Turning to the small bed tucked into the corner, she smiled thinking how it used to swallow her with its size and now, as a seventeen year old, she dwarfed it. On top of the bed sat a beaded handbag, the bag she had been preparing since the evening of Dumbledore’s funeral, packed with everything she could possibly think would aid them on the quest they were taking. As a young girl, her father would tell her stories before bed, tucked up under pink bed sheets, about knights and princesses. He would read to her the adventures of Merlin and the Knights of the round table and how every quest they went on was to save the kingdom or test their chivalry. Hermione could so clearly remember the feeling of wanting to prove herself with a quest like that, and now faced with that task, faced with the pressure of what she had to do, she would only wish to be back with her father reading to her. _

_ ‘Hermione, tea’s ready.’ came her mum’s voice from downstairs.  _

_ A grief came over her as she heard the voice. The voice of the person who had held her, laughed with her, been there for her at a moments notice; who would soon know nothing about her. Her thoughts shot to Harry, the only person she knew who had lost their parents. She had seen him struggle with his feelings over it for so long, but he had never known them. Then her thoughts drifted to Ron, who was so loved in every way that he could never contemplate the idea that she had landed on. _

_ Picking up the beaded bag, she made her way down the stairs, stopping only briefly on the fourth from last step to look over the pictures that she saw there. If the Grangers had been one thing, it was that they were proud of their daughter. That was the reason that all the walls were covered in pictures of her, framed certificated and shelves of trophies. She had remembered her grandparents once joking that the walls would fall down with the amount of pride hung on them. And here, on the fourth step, she had sat when the front door had rung and Professor McGonagall had stood there wearing a cloak and hat. It was her first glimpse of the world she would soon come to work for, soon come to fight for, and her parents had told her that day they were more proud than they had ever been before. Hermione doubted they would be proud after today.  _

_ ‘I can’t believe she leaves in two weeks time,’ she heard her mum cooing. _

_ ‘Our Hermione, her final year at school. I never thought we could get so lucky Jean’ she could almost see her father’s smile as he gushed. Hermione felt the spring of tears to her eyes as she listened to their conversation. She slowly sat down on the fourth step taking them in. _

_ ‘We have to make sure we buy her something incredible for her final year. What do you think?’ Jean asked. _

_ ‘I think its a great idea. Maybe a new telescope...or...what do you think magical families buy their children?’ _

_ ‘Oh Hugo…’ her mother was saying. ‘I was thinking something that wasn’t school related. Maybe we get her something she can treasure forever, she is a young woman after all. _

_ ‘Don’t remind me! It seems like only yesterday we were bringing her home from the hospital...soon she won’t even live here anymore.’ _

_ It was too much for Hermione to take, she couldn’t sit there and listen to them plan her future with them any longer. She lifted herself, feeling the weight on the world on her shoulder, feeling Harry and Ron behind her as she walked into the small living room where her parents had laid out the tea.  _

_ Hermione had always been good at goodbyes. She was happy to wave goodbye to her life as a muggle at the age of eleven. She was happy to say goodbye to the boys every summer knowing that she would see them again. Happy to say goodbye to her law abiding ways to go on the adventures that she shared with them. But this was one goodbye that was coming to soon, one that she was all too prepared for, and yet not ready for at all. _

_ She brought her wand up, slowly turning her hand and muttered the words that she knew would haunt her forever. _

_ ‘Obliviate!’ _

_ It came out as a whisper and she saw as her parents stilled in their motions and their conversation ended abruptly. Around the room, she could sense the changes in the house. The small creak as the furniture in her room disappeared, the scratches as shoes from the shoe rack were worn away. In front of her, the images on the mantelpiece erased her forever. Not able to take it a second longer she walked swiftly out of the front door, only pausing to place her hand on the green painted wood. _

_ ‘Goodbye,’ she said, before apparating away forever. _

  
  


‘I think we should have a big party,’ said Neville, sitting around the room with the other prefects.

‘Yeah, but I don’t really want something like at Christmas,’ explained Hermione. ‘It’s the end of the year, it should be easy light. And...to be honest, I think that younger years shouldn’t be involved.’

There was a murmur of agreement around the room as she made the comment.

‘I agree with Granger,’ Blaise’s smooth voice came above the rabble. He was seated on top of a table next to a seated Ginny, his hands playing with her hair. Ginny was ignoring this. ‘It’s my last chance to party here and those years still have ages left.’

Hermione had called a meeting of all the seventh and eighth years prefects at dinner, wanting to give them a clear run down on how their last month at the castle was going to run. Professor McGonagall had called for her at lunch, much to Hermione’s dismay as she had promised to lunch with Harry and Ron, and had given her a list of important items for the meeting.

‘Miss Granger,' the professor had said. ‘I know what the students of this year can behave like, and the mischief they can get up. I know that pranks and the like are almost a rite of passage, but I would appreciate it if they were kept to a minimum. There are still students learning. Of course, if you would like to organise a - shall we say - get together, then I would be in agreement.

‘Of course Headmistress, I will do my best to keep them in check.’ Hermione had said to her with a smile. Hermione rose from the desk but had been stopped by the older woman’s voice.

‘Miss Granger, I did mean for Mr Malfoy to join us here this evening. Do you happen to know where he is? He does understand that it is not just your responsibility.’ Hermione had stilled at her words, unsure of what she was implying. She knew that Draco had moved out of the dorm, so she was aware that all of the professors were informed of what had happened between them.

‘Professor, I have not seen him today, but I will make sure that your messages are passed to him.’ and she had left the room.

‘I know you are all going to die of shock, but I think Blaise is right.’ there were laughs around the room as she spoke. It gave Hermione another chance to breathe easy and forget about the incident with Draco two days ago. ‘This is our time to celebrate and commiserate. I want you to start drafting ideas and get them to me by tomorrow lunch please. Any other business?’

‘I really wanted to speak to Malfoy about a final Quidditch match - a friendly, maybe the same day as the party,’ spoke Anthony Goldstein. 

Draco was notably absent from the meeting - as was Pansy. This made Hermioen’s blood boil, just another way for her to shirk her duties and rub it in Hermione’s face that she had won the prize that Hermione could not keep.

‘Sorry, he was...otherwise engaged this evening. I like the idea though, can you plot me a play by play of the event and drop it to me tomorrow like you would the party suggestions. Thanks Anthony Right everyone, get some sleep, I know a lot of you have Auror induction training tomorrow.’

With that, everyone started to collect their things and Hermione saw Ginny whisper to Blaise and then head towards her. To Hermione’s chagrin, it looked like Theo and Blaise were not leaving, but instead setting up camp for the evening.

‘Hermione, where is Malfoy?’ she asked. Hermione had not really had a chance to explain to Ginny what had happened but was sure that Blaise had filled her in.

‘I don’t know Gin - to be honest I don’t really care.’

‘That’s not true!’ came Blaise’s voice as he prowled over. Hermione liked to compare him to a panther, all dark and mysterious, ready to leap out when he got his chance.

‘Blaise, honestly I don’t really want to talk about it.’ Hermione brushed him off and started to collect her meeting notes from in front of her.

‘Granger - I think we need to talk about this...;’

‘Blaise, this isn’t a group discussion. My love life, or current lack there-of, is my business.’

Theo joined Blaise and Ginny in front of her, the three of them sharing a look that Hermione had seen many times in the boys, Harry and Ron would often give each other a side look when there was something they were desperate to talk about and they knew she would not appreciate it. She sighed and stared them down.

‘Hermione - something is wrong…’

‘Guys, I really have to go and see Harry and Ron, so maybe hurry it up.’

‘Granger,’ Blaise said, treading carefully on his words. ‘We haven't seen Draco in days.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ Hermione brushed them off. ‘I saw him with Theo the other day.’

‘That was the last time I saw him Hermione,’ Theo cut in.

‘Look,’ she gave them, what her mother used to call, her stern face and said . ‘I am not his keeper. If he is off wandering and avoiding you all, then that’s his issue, not mine. If you really want to speak to someone who knows where he is...go and ask Pansy!’

It was at that moment that there was a flurry of activity and the very person she was talking about strode confidently into the room, her head swinging around as if looking for someone. Taking in the four of them speaking, Pansy rounded on them and started to shout.

‘WHERE IS HE?’ she screamed at them.

Blaise and Theo instantly turned, putting their backs to both herself and Ginny, as if they were protecting them from the crazy dark haired girl.

‘Pansy, what are you doing?’ Theo said, his voice full of venom. 

Hermione had always thought that the two of them were relatively close. After their conversation is St Mungo’s, when Theo had told her all of the very private things that Pansy used to confide in him, she was sure that Theo was her confidant. But the way he stood now, his hands outstretched against her, his posture entirely defensive and alert.

‘THEO! WHERE IS HE?’

Looking at her was like looking at a wild animal. Her usually perfect hair, black and sleek and hanging against her shoulders, was frizzly and slightly mattered. Her delectably pale skin was mottled with red splotches and the tears that flowed freely from her eyes. They were dark and wild as she took them in and her chest was heaving in the effort to talk through her sobs.

Hermione pushed through them, her hatred and anger for the girl rising about the pity she felt for the slobbering mess before her.

‘What are you talking about Pansy?’ the blunt tone and the way in which she approached her seemed to calm the dark haired girl.

‘He’s gone Granger. He isn’t anywhere.’

‘And how is that our problem?’ Hermione asked. ‘Draco is a big boy, he makes his own decision…’Hermione looked her up and down ‘...clearly.’

Hermione went to turn away, but Pansy grabbed her by the wrist. Feeling the girl's fingernails dig into her skin, something erupted in her chest and she tore her hands over the girl, dragging her off and slapping her across the face.

;Don’t  _ fucking _ touch me...ever!’ Hermione ground out as she fought to control her breathing.

‘Hermione…’ Ginny said, laying a hand on her shoulder. Hermione shrugged it off and continued to stare at the girl before her.

‘We aren’t going to help you find your lost boyfriend.’ Hermione said, feeling the fire in her belly ignite. Pansy, who had stumbled back after the slap, her cheek and bright red from the impact, took another step forward.

‘Dray isn’t my boyfriend.’ she said softly. ‘Why would you say that?’

‘Oh, so it was just a cheap fuck.’

‘Granger - I don’t know what you have heard, but Draco and I haven’t been together since fifth year.’

‘Why lie Pans?’ shouted Theo from behind Hermione, stepping to join her shoulder to shoulder. ‘Draco told her...and me...he said you slept together over Easter.’

At this, Pansy stumbled back until her thighs hit the back of the sofa. Her hands leant against the material, her fingers gripping into the plush red, another hand raking through hair and then settling over her mouth in a silent scream. Hermione was suddenly struck with the memory of her pulling the same pose, leaning against a bookshelf in the library as her own memories crashed around her. At this Blaise moved towards her, kneeling down in front of her and taking her hands in his.

‘Pansy, what happened?’ he asked slowly, Hermione could see him rubbing her thumbs up and down her hands.

‘I didn’t do it Blaise. I didn’t sleep with him...but...I did something else.’

‘What did you do?’ Ginny asked, her voice harsh. Pansy’s head shot up , glaring at the red head, ignoring her and looking back down at Blaise.

‘Someone contacted me...told me they could help my family...told me I just needed to get him alone….away from Granger.’

‘Who?’ Blaise asked.

‘I never saw them - I never heard their real voice - I think they took him…’

‘Stop talking!’ Hermione said. 

She felt her entire body go cold as she listened to Pansy speak to Blaise. There was something about the way she spoke, the words she used and the way she was looking at Blaise as if she wanted to crawl away somewhere and die.

‘Granger, we need to hear what she has to say,’ Blaise shot at her.

‘No, we need someone to take an official statement. Do not let her leave.’ she said pointing at Pansy and leaving the common room.

She ran, remembering that the last time she ran like this she was trying to escape the snatchers. Her lungs were burning, her limbs aching as she tore down corridors and up stairs, reaching the room of the people she knew could deal with this. Hammering on the door, she heard murmuring and laughter. She was impatient and knocked again, bouncing on her feet, trying to push down the feeling of dread that was burning in her mind. When the door finally swung open, a flushed Harry stood there, his t-shirt inside out, his smile upon seeing her faded when he saw the state she was in.

‘Hermione, whats…’

‘He’s missing. Something’s happened and Draco is missing. You need to come with me.’

* * *

I want to thank everyone so much - I am having so many amazing responses to this story and so many people are filling me with fantastic ideas and spinning the story on its head that I just can't ignore them. You are truly a wonderful fandom and it makes me so happy that I decided to start writing again. I love you all so much.


	26. Chapter 26

‘Did he go down all right?’ Draco asked as Hermione descended the stairs.

When she raised her eyes to look at him, her breath caught in her throat. He was sitting on the window seat, legs spread before him and a book in his lap. His almost white hair had fallen from its neatly placed position, to flop down over his right ear and he wore an expression of pure comfort. Hermione smiled, wondering how many times in her life she had stopped to be truly devastated by the way he looks. If the last few years were anything to go by, she would soon run out of numbers to count.

‘Yeah, I only had to read to him the same book twice before he dropped off. I thought they didn’t grow out of afternoon naps until they were at least 2,’ she sighed.

She walked over to him, nudging his legs to give her some room, and sat in the space he made on the edge of the seat facing him.

‘What are you reading?’ she asked.

He smiled at her, it was such a lovely expression, she had missed it so much over the last few months. Holding up the book she could see the title sprawled across the front cover in idyllic lettering; ‘The Count of Monte Cristo’.

‘I thought you hated this story,’ she let out a breath on the end of a laugh and shook her head at him.

‘I do,’ he smiled. ‘But I know you love it. Sometimes it’s nice to sit down and read something you love so much. It reminds me what it takes to be something you adore.’

Hermione leant in and placed a soft kiss to his lips, feeling his warm skin under hers was a pleasure, something she could never really get enough of. She felt his hands drop the book into his lap and wind up through her hair to capture her head, holding it while he lavished her mouth with his tongue. Breaking apart, they both breathed together and Draco rested his forehead on hers.

‘I am having a lovely day, love,’ he whispered. She smiled hearing him say it.

‘Well - if you weren’t having a lovely birthday I would have failed you as a wife.’

He laughed, the sound like a chime on a soft breeze and he leant back against the wall, taking her in. It was rare that they were able to find moments like this on the weekends, even more so since his father. Draco had been so consumed in grief, that it had taken a long time for him to work through it. Hermione had been worried about his birthday this year, falling so close to the funeral, worrying that he was going to be plagued with visions of the past. When she had spoken to Theo about it, side-stepping awkward conversations as always, he had not been able to offer much more helpful advice than he had before. Seeing him like this, however, Hermione knew that he was going to be okay and the image brought her hope.

A knock at the front door shook them from their afternoon kissing and, sharing confused looks, they both rose from their seats. Hardly anyone knocked on their door, so the sound was often an odd one, everyone they knew would either apparate or floo. When she opened the door, she was delighted to see Ron standing there, looking a little flushed, if not a little tired.

‘Hey, we need to show you something.’ he said, obviously anxious as he lifted his hands towards them.

‘O-kay,’ Hermione said slowly, smiling at her gangly friend and turning to shoot a smile at Draco who was standing just behind her.

‘Harry…’ Ron said, looking behind him to where Hermione could see the back of Harry’s head. 

At Ron’s words, Harry turned and Hermione felt her whole face drop as she saw what he was holding. She felt her lips begin to shake and tears spring to her eyes as her brain started to take in what she saw.

‘Harry, Ron….that’s….’

Harry took a step forward, Ron looping his arms around his waist, as Hermione was able to take in the bundle in his arms. The most beautiful bundle she had ever seen. Quickly turning to see Draco’s face, his eyes were also glassy with tears and a smile that could rival her own.

‘Can we come in?’ Harry asked, his grin the widest Hermione had ever seen it.

As quickly as she could, Hermione pushed Draco playfully and let the two boys and their precious cargo enter the house. Hermione saw Draco move around them to shut the door and Hermione kissed both Harry and Ron on the cheek before placing her hand on the wriggling form he was holding.

‘Her name is Lily,’ Ron said in a hushed voice. ‘Lily Hermione Potter-Weasley’

She could feel her eyes widen and the tears now slipping freely down her cheeks as she took her in. The thick dark curls, the slight tan of her skin and the most stunning green eyes. Lily Hermione Potter-Weasley; the most lucky girl in the world.

‘Boys, she is so beautiful!’ she whispered, moving her hand to cup Harry’s cheek. 

‘I know right?’ Ron said.

The four of them moved to the living room and Draco continued on to the kitchen to make tea while Harry and Ron settled onto the sofa and Hermione into an armchair. As she watched them settle, Hermione realised that they were the picture of happiness. Harry was beaming down at the little girl, his eyes so full of wonder and excitement that she wanted to scream for him. Ron was full of nervous energy, checking her every time she moved and looking at Harry after every check, grinning and kissing him on the forehead.

‘So - what happened?’ Hermione asked, desperate to know everything.

‘Well, Emelie was due in three weeks time, but she went into labour early yesterday morning and sent us a Patronus. We apparated right over and stayed with her. Lily was born at 1am this morning, she kept us going all night.’ Harry giggled as he spoke.

‘Emelie is doing really well,’ Ron smiled. ‘She was a trooper and honestly, it was the most amazing thing I have ever watched.’

‘I can attest to that,’ Draco said as he came in carrying a tray of tea, placing it on the table and then sitting down on the arm of Hermione’s armchair.

Harry moved gently, rising from the chair and moving towards them.

‘Would you like to hold her?’ he asked, leaning towards Draco as he spoke.

Draco looked down to Hermione before he answered, an emphatic yes, as he looked confused as to why he would get the honour before Hermione. She marvelled at the way he held the little girl, his hands naturally falling behind her head and pulling him close to his large body.

‘Draco we...Ron and I...we really want you to ask you something,’ Harry said and Hermione smiled at the way Harry reverted to his shy teenage self as he spoke. She was reminded of the night he had proposed to Ron, the same shy energy pouring from him.

‘Well ask away. I am sure it can’t be anything too horrible, otherwise you wouldn’t have passed me your daughter before you did,’ he chuckled slightly as he said it.

‘Well,’ said Ron, standing next to Harry. ‘We wondered how you would feel about being Lily’s godfather?’

Draco froze, she could see from the look on his face and the stilled movement of his hands that he was thrown by their question. If, ten years ago, anyone had told him that he would be asked to be the godfather of Harry Potter’s child, he would have duelled them in an instant. The thought would have been ridiculous, laughable - but now Hermione could not imagine a better moment.

‘Me?’ Draco asked, after a long while sat silently staring at the gorgeous dot cradled in his arms.

‘Believe me, I find this as crazy as the next person,’ Harry laughed. ‘But who else will be able to teach our daughter about bravery more than you. You are proof that your past does not make you who you are. We can’t think of a better person.’

‘How can I pass up that?’ Draco laughed, standing and gingerly hugging the two of them with Lily pressed between them. ‘You do realise this means I get to persuade her to ask the sorting hat to stick her in Slytherin?’

The four of them laughed loudly; causing a certain blonde up the stairs to wake up and begin to cry.

  
  


* * *

Hermione stared at the Headmistress as she walked back into her office, walking around the four young adults in front of her and sat down at her desk.

‘Auror Dawlish will be contacting us shortly,’ she said stiffly as she picked up a quill and started to write on a piece of parchment. It was odd to watch her do such a menial task at a time like this, as if nothing about her evening had changed at all.

Hermione’s heart was in her throat, had been since Harry and Ron had dragged Pansy through the school, the sounds of tears echoing off the thin windows, and explained to Professor McGonagall everything that they had heard from the girl. The Headmistresses had sat quietly and listened to what they said, only interrupting to ask perfunctory questions. Pansy, in turn, had sobbed and explained what she had done and said that Draco had been missing for two days without any word. When it was over, the headmistress had stood and left the room and the four of them had returned to silence, the only sound between them the sniffing and continued dry sobs of the dark haired girl in the chair. 

Harry and Ron stood behind Pansy as she sat, shaking and grabbing at her own hands, Hermione stood to the side, leaning against a stone pillar and calmly going through every situation her mind could throw at her. She was designed for this, moulded by their hunt to go through everything bit by bit. Hermione was meticulous, and this is what had her so annoyed, that no-one had taken her seriously when she had brought Pansy up originally. The facts were laid out for them now, she knew the boys were most likely picking them apart as well, but she kept pausing on something. She was hovering over the tiny details that just didn’t fit, questions that Hermione just could not find the answers to. Pansy had no idea who she was communicating with, but why did she decide not to tell anyone what was going on? Was there no one that Pansy trusted anymore? Why didn’t the Hogwarts ward pick up outside entry? Why didn’t Pansy say anything about the previous attacks? Where was the pendant? Why did Draco say he slept with Pansy?

At that moment, a silvery gorilla came bounding into view and floated in front of the group before the dulcet tones of Dawlish came bounding from his open mouth.

‘Professor McGonagall, please escort Miss Parkinson to the Slytherin dormitory where she will remain under guard until further notice. Auror Potter, Auror Weasley, please bring Miss Granger to a lightning meeting.’

After Hermione watched it disappear, she closed her eyes, scrunching them against the thoughts that invaded her head. If they were calling an Order meeting, something serious had to have happened. Part of her was still wishing that they would be able to find Draco milling around Hogsmeade or have flown to the Manor as an escape, but part of her had been accepting that that would not be the case. Seeing Pansy’s face filled with horror at the idea of being kept under guard filled her with a little ounce of vindication, knowing that she would get comeuppance from this was almost enough.

‘Mr Potter, I will leave you to make your own way, the floo power is on my desk. I will ensure to cancel all Auror career meetings until further notice. Miss Granger, please ensure to keep me informed of your return. Miss Parkinson, with me.’

The older woman started to leave the room, ensuring Pansy was following her, but as she got to the door she turned once more to take in the three of them.

‘Please, do all you can to ensure the safe return of Mr Malfoy?’ she asked them, almost as if she was begging them. Hermione had seen this look before, just before the Battle, when she looked at Harry in the Great Hall. It was something akin to what would be pride, but also sincere fear.

‘We will do everything we can, please believe me.’ Harry said, before Professor McGonagall nodded and departed. 

Ron grabbed the bag of floo powder from the desk and threw it into the flames in the fireplace, turning back to make eye contact with her. She swallowed hard and stared at the green, unsure of what this trip would bring them and how it would end.

‘We have to go, Hermione,’ Harry said gently, holding out his hand to her.

Hermione wanted to laugh at the absurdity of the notion, but a story her mum had read to her a million times came to her head. ‘I see thee now...as one dead in the bottom of a tomb.’ She shivered as she took his hand and stepped into the green.

By the time she had stepped out of the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, the kitchen was a hive of activity. She could see Mr Weasley poring over maps of the British countryside and circling images with his wand. Mrs Weasley was deep in conversation with George as they crossed over in front of them and there were several Aurors, only recognisable by their burgundy robes, all huddled together and whispering. When they saw Harry and Ron enter the room, they immediately beckoned them over and Hermione just stood and watched it all.

She lifted an arm across her and subconsciously rubbed at her left forearm, a habit that she utilised in times of stress, born from hours of funerals. The kitchen had become a war room, and she felt the grip on her arm tighten as she was thrown into a memory brighter than any other.

  
  
  


_ ‘That’s how it has to be!’ she screeched across the table, watching the drop in the older wizards face. _

_ ‘Miss Granger, I understand that you think you know what is going on, but please do not shout at me.’ Kinglsey said as he looked at her across the table. _

_ ‘With all do respect, Kinglsey, Hermione is right. There is only one thing we need you to do...get the snake!’ Ron said. _

_ ‘You are children! I cannot, in good conscience, let you wander around this castle looking for something you have no idea about. This castle is about to become a warzone.’ _

_ Hermione sighed and looked around the Room of Requirement, clenching her jaw against the rage and fear fighting inside her. The room had changed so much since they were here for the DA; there were hammocks and beds all over the place, scattered into the corners were an array of students with different uniforms and ideals, but sheltered here nonetheless. They had been fighting the oppression of the school all year, banding together against the common enemy, children against the fray. And now that the adults had shown up, they wanted to dictate how it was all going to go down. She could hear them still, muttering about them and the ways in which ‘war should be proper’ and ‘how it was fought before.’ _

_ ‘This isn’t before,’ Ron bellowed over the din, and then speaking as if he could read her mind. ‘You can’t come in here now and tell us how to run a fight we have already been battling. If you want to help us then great, but we have been doing it pretty much alone since the get go!’ _

_ ‘Kingsley,’ came Remus’ voice from somewhere on her left. ‘They have a point! You know what Dumbeldore said…’ _

_ ‘Harry is our best hope! Trust him!’ Hermione sighed gripping at her left arm, looking between the two men. She could see the look in Kingley’s eye, that he didn’t want to listen but had to. Harry always blindly trusted the people that Dumbledore had, it was the reason he was so devastated about Snape and the Rita Skeeter book; Hermione had always been wary. _

_ Alastor Moody had always told them ‘Constant Vigilance’, to look for the unexpected. If the magical world had taught her anything, it was that things happen in the unlikeliest places, and are caused by the unlikeliest people. Look at Peter Pettigrew; everyone was so convinced it couldn’t be him that they allowed themselves to send an innocent man to prison without trial. No, there was something in Kingley’s eye that Hermione did not like the look of. _

_ There came a noise from the portrait hole and they turned to see Malfoy standing there, his face ashy and covered in sweat. Many of the students still in the room became guarded and alert as he jumped down from the ledge, most moved away as he passed them obviously scared of what they could see in him, the darkness that surrounded them. Hermione watched as he confidently strode past them all, ignoring the looks and whispers and went to stand next to Harry. _

_ ‘Got away okay?’ Harry asked, narrowing his eyes and looking the blonde man up and down. _

_ ‘Just. I only have a few minutes, so run it down for me. Father will be looking for me soon.’ _

_ This brief conversation between Harry and Malfoy had meant that the whispers around the room erupted into loud and pointed conversations. Seeing the Chosen One with Draco Malfoy was certainly not something they thought was in store for that evening. The only people who did not seem shocked by this new development were the remaining Order Members not currently rounding up students for an exit. _

_ ‘We are going to search for an item, the rest of the Order have been instructed to kill the snake. Malfoy, you are going to have the best chance to see where it is so if you have any way of contacting us then please let us know, a Patronus will do…’ _

_ ‘You know I can’t Potter!’ Draco snarled, a few of the Order members looked uncomfortable. _

_ Hermione knew the feeling well. The Patronus, although something she could perform, was the only spell she had trouble with. It wasn’t for lack of trying, or for the lack of happy memories, but being able to perform the spell under pressure. When Malfoy had joined the order a few months previously, it became common knowledge amongst the members that Draco would not perform on. He would not tell them the reason why or why he wouldn’t even attempt one, but Hermione was sure it had something to do with living with Lord Voldermort and the regime he had witnessed first hand. _

_ ‘Sorry, of course. Well, do what you can. If you see us at all, you know the drill - keep us safe but don’t make it too obvious. I don’t want you blowing your cover if...well, if…’ _

_ Harry trailed off and his eyes seemed far away.  _

_ ‘Don’t worry Potter...there is no if. I’ll make sure you know where the snake is...or someone does at any rate.’ _

_ With that he turned on his heels and began to walk away, it was then that his eyes caught Hermione and he stopped for the fraction of a second. In that small amount of time he flashed her a smile, not the smirk she was expecting from him, but a genuine smile. She had only seen it once, in a meeting when Remus told him that his work was important, that Draco was valued in the Order. Hermione did not want to linger on the action, it could have been a good luck or, even worse, a goodbye and she did not want to let it distract her.  _

_ As they all watched Draco climb back through the portrait hole, the empty canvas that once held Ariana Dumbledore swinging shut behind him, there was a tense silence hanging over the room. As Hermione’s eyes met with Harry and Ron, she could feel the pressure on them, the way the dust hung in the air. It was the calm before the storm and Hermione knew that after tonight, nothing would ever be the same again. _

  
  


‘Thank you for filling in for us Harry,’ said Mr Weasley after Harry had explained what was happening.

‘I am confused,’ came George’s voice from across the table. ‘Hermione, why have you only just realised Malfoy was missing?’ She rolled her eyes, of course someone would pick up on that detail.

‘Me and Draco aren’t together anymore, we haven’t been for over a week. He had moved out of the Head’s Dormitory so I hadn’t been seeing him at all, other than in exams,’ she replied stiffly, not really wanting to go into any details. The rest of the kitchen fell into an awkward silence, waiting for someone else to say something, George looked somewhat apologetically at her.

They were still waiting for Dawlish to join them at the meeting, the new Auror’s at the table were obviously impatient having to listen to the group of adults talking around the table. Ron had to placate them more than once with the fact that they were there on orders. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, what could be taking Dawlish so long? As if he had planned it, the fire burned green and Dawlish walked through, his robes dishevelled and his face forlorn. 

‘Team Delta you are dismissed,’ was the first thing he said. The group of Burgundy clad wizards gave each other strange looks at the idea of being dismissed immediately, but followed the order nonetheless. He waited for them to have all stepped through the flames before turning to the table.

‘Sorry to have kept you all so long, there were many things at the Ministry that needed smoothing over before I arrived here; I wanted to be sure we could move.’

Hermione could see the sweat forming on his forehead as he spoke and the slight shiver of his shoulder as if he was desperate to tell them something.

‘Dawlish, where is Draco?’ she heard her own voice ask, before she was able to stop herself.

‘Hermione, we aren’t sure at the moment...but we have a hunch.’

‘A hunch?’ Ron asked. ‘Why don’t we have any more information than a hunch?’

‘Weasley, please...let me explain. We had an anonymous tip come through the Ministry an hour before Minerva contacted me earlier this evening and I wanted to gather you to discuss it. I was caught up in meetings with the Minister and the Wizengamot.’

‘The Wizengamot?’ asked Molly, whose features were stricken with fear. ‘What’s happened John?’

‘We have found him...Greyback.’ he said.

‘Where is he?’ asked Harry, gripping the back of a wooden chair as he spoke.

‘The tip off came to us from a wizard stationed on the Isle of Skye, telling us the abandoned ruins there have suffered from Dark Magic over the last 24 hours. We are lucky, the station there only has someone visit every three weeks. Turns out he had been in his rotation and we just managed to have someone there at the same time.’

‘So what’s the plan?’ Harry asked.

‘Are we going after him?’ Ron asked, leaning forward and Hermione watched his fingers fan over the map that Mr Weasley was working on earlier.

‘I thought the Minister said no more unauthorised missions in regards to Greyback?’ Hermione asked. She didn’t want to sound like a coward, she wanted him locked away more than anyone who still roamed from the DE’s, but she was terrified of him. After the last excursion, how could she possibly face him again?

‘I did!’ came a voice from the fireplace. In their excitement to hear the news, they had not noticed Kingsley floo in. ‘But circumstances change. Miss Granger, we believe that Greyback may have Mr Malfoy.’

Ice landed in her stomach as she heard the words. If Greyback had Draco, for who knows how long he had been missing, he could be in any state right about now. Her hand flew to cover her mouth as she doubled over, letting the icy fear flood through her veins.

‘What are we waiting for?’ Harry asked, almost shouting.

‘I need to know who is coming on the mission.’

‘Where is Team Delta?’ asked Kingsley suddenly. ‘They were meant to be coming with you. We can;t afford another loss Dawlish.’

‘Apologies Minister, but I cannot let Ministry or Order secrets, the kind that Malfoy carries, be handled by a Delta team. For all we know, Parkinson was contacted by a Ministry Agent working for Greyback. I know I can trust the people around this table.’

‘I understand the concern Dawlish...but do you really think the Delpha team are behind this.’

‘You don’t know who you can trust Kingsley,’ Hermione shot at him, her voice small and dangerous. Think of how many times the order has been betrayed before.’

‘Well, Harry, Hermione and I are going to do this, right?’ Ron said, shooting them a look. Despite her best judgement she nodded her head. No matter what she had felt for Draco all week, how much she was hurting about all the lies they were wrapped up in, she could not leave him to Greyback. 

‘I’ll come,’ said George, stepping forward. ‘I know that I wasn’t with you before, but an extra pair of hands is just what you need. I can’t let that bastard get away with any more deaths.’

‘Dawlish, I need you to go back to the Ministry to handle the response for the backup team. I know that this is something you wouldn’t usually do, but Potter and Weasley are more than capable of leading this team. If you can’t trust people at the Ministry, I need you there as someone I can trust.’

Dawlish looked between the new team and Kingsley, obviously shocked at the Minister's suggestion. Hermione could see the disappointment in his eyes as the realisation flooded him that if - when - they got Greyback, he would not be in on the action.

‘Yes, Minister,’ he resigned himself and threw a bag on the table. ‘Your Portkeys are in this bag. The ruins are not under any sort of protective spells and I would suggest not to use them this time around.’

‘Are you not going to plan any more than that. Last time you had an extensive plan made before you even apparated?’ asked Molly, whose voice was frantic as she spoke.

‘Mrs Weasley, we had a plan last time and look what happened? Something tells me we just have to trust each other.’

The wrapped Portkeys were handed out and the four young wizards looked at one another, nodding in silent approval. This was just how Hermione remembered it, the awful anticipation of war, and this time she was desperate to reach the end to ensure Draco’s safety. On a smile, she pulled the fabric from her Portkey and felt the familiar tugging behind her navel, before the wind whipped around her head and she felt the dull aching thud under her feet. 

As the three others appeared beside her, she looked around their dark surroundings. They had appeared on the top of a hill, the spring wind icy so far north, as they squinted to look down upon island ruins. 

Hermione had read about them before, her mother was a keen historian in her spare time, and would tell her all about the amazing places the UK had to offer and all the mysteries that surrounded it. From what Hermione could remember, the rumour was this ruin once belonged to the Druid, an old sect of Magic that she had since found out was real. Of course, it was also linked back in the story books to King Arthur and in the history books to some Vikings. Hermione thought to herself that if she had come here on any other day, she would want to sit among the old grey stones, feeling the history that wept from them and exploring the ways in which her magic spoke to them. But now, she was desperate to leave, to find him and go.

‘Homenum Revelio,’ Geogre muttered as they stood them, pointing his wand down towards the ruins. ‘There is only one person down there,’ he said over to them.

‘Maybe the tip was wrong,’ Ron muttered back, ‘Maybe it’s just Greyback.’

‘Or maybe it’s just Malfoy,’ Harry commented.

‘Either way, can we please just get a move on with this -’ said Hermione, her teeth chattering together. She wished she had worn a thicker jumper.

‘Okay, I say two groups. Ron and George can you stick together and enter from the West, Hermione and I from the East. Same drill as always, any movement, any backup from the DE’s - anything unusual - Patronus or send sparks up.’

Nodding, the two groups set off and made their way down to the historical sight. Harry and Hermione walked in silence through the mud and wind, passing high stones and stopping every few paces to perform diagnostic and tracking charms. All she could hear were the mutterings of spells, the howling of the wind and their heavy breathing. Everytime she stole a glance at him, his eyes were drawn and he looked more nervous than he had in years. She held out her hand to grab his, giving it a squeeze. In truth, she wished he was the one comforting her, with her chest rattling for the cold that plagued her and the feeling of bile stuck in her throat. Harry looked over and gave her a small smile and returned the gesture.

It was eerily quiet - even more so than the castle had been when they last encountered Greyback. It was when Hermione realised she could no longer hear the wind, that something was wrong. Her head snapped around when she saw red sparks fly into the sky and she belted towards them. The bottom of her trainers were sliding on the uneven, muddy ground and she could feel the ache in her thighs as she tried to climb over the treacherous ruins. When she reached the other two, they were breathing heavy and sweating.

‘I saw movement two blocks over,’ Ron whispered. ‘A dark shadow moving around the corner.’

‘He would have seen the sparks,’ Harry said but Ron was shaking his head. ‘He would have dissapparated by now.’

‘The figure was limping!’ George said. ‘He saw us but didn’t hex us...I don’t think he has a wand.’

Swallowing hard and breathing heavy, Hermione moved forward towards the spot that Ron had pointed to. The only remaining structure in the ruin stood before them; a small stone building, high walls and an empty square hole where a door would be. There was no roof and Hermione could see the floor inside was illuminated by the quarter moon hanging in the sky. The four of them edged towards the building and the closer they got, the more they could hear a strange sound - a scratching. 

Flanking the empty door frame opposite Harry and George, with Ron in front of her, she could feel the bile edging closer to the surface. She prayed it was an animal, she prayed it wasn’t Greyback, she hoped it wasn’t Draco. Harry nodded at Ron and started to count down, Hermione only hearing the scratching and sound of her own heavy breaths. Three; what would happen if it was Greyback?, two; what would happen if it wasn’t Draco?, one; what would happen if she never found him?.

The four of them burst through the open door, and she saw him in the corner before Harry shot out a spell and chains erupted from his wand, wrapping themselves around the form of Fenrir Greyback and binding him to the floor. A giant chain had wrapped it’s way around his mouth and Hermione felt elated as she watched him struggle - if you could call it that. 

‘Check him!’ Harry said harshly and Ron walked cautiously over, bending down to rip open his shirt sleeve, seeing the Dark Mark tattoo etched onto his skin.

‘It’s him Harry,’ said Ron, as he stood, giving Greyback a kick in the shin for good measure. ‘Hermione, are you okay?’

She was staring at Greyback, whose eyes were locked onto hers. His eyes were wide and grey, hollow as if staring into an empty pit and she swallowed the vomit that threatened to leave her. The scar on her thigh suddenly itched with fervour and she ground her teeth together to refrain from scratching it. But, there was something else happening in her brain as she took him in. He was thin, thinner than she had ever seen him - clearly being on the run did not agree with him. Then she noticed he wasn’t struggling at all, he was cowering. Of course, being caught by Auror’swas one thing, but Greyback had never been afraid of them before. Now he was trying to push himself as far into the corner of the room as he could, attempting to turn his face away from her, but the chains were keeping him there. Was he crying?

‘I think so I….’ but said, looking to Ron, but stopped once more when she took in his face. It was white under his shock of red hair, so white that she couldn’t even make out the freckles.

‘Ron…’ said George, walking over to him and grabbing hold of his arm. Ron didn’t move, just closed his lips and swallowed hard. It was then that Hermione knew he wasn’t looking at her, but looking just past her, over her shoulder. 

The shivering in her body had started again, it was so hard now that she could feel it in her ribs, the effort to stay still. It wasn’t the cold this time, it was the way that Ron was looking, the way George’s face dropped when his eyes met the sight behind her. It was the way Harry grabbed her elbow when he turned his head. She closed her eyes, preparing herself for what she was about to see and slowly turned her head. 

She felt Harry clutch at her as her vision went blurry, felt him try to hold her as her knees gave way - but he couldn’t catch her. Her hands hit the floor in front of her, the stone shocking up to her shoulders as her mouth grew in a silent scream, her eyes wide with despair. Their voices were lost, time slowed as she crawled forward to meet the scene, throwing off Harry and Ron as they tried to get to her shoulders. She didn’t know why they stopped trying to reach her, maybe George was holding them back.

When she got there, she lifted her hand to touch it, finding nothing but cold under her fingers, feeling nothing at all as she searched the face, the body, the hands. Even the blood was dry.

‘Draco?’ she felt her lips ask, she knew sound came out, but she just couldn’t hear it. ‘Draco?’ she said again, desperate to shake the form, almost childlike. Her fingers grazed the cheek again, her thumb resting just below the eyes - the once beautiful steely eyes that were now flat and empty as they looked to the sky. Looking but not seeing.

It erupted from her like a bomb - the scream - the scream for him. It ripped through her like fiendfyre, burning her lungs and tearing her heart out along with it. It was almost never ending, the scream that lit the night sky with anger and loss, that burned at her vision with tears that could melt lead. When it broke, she collapsed, using everything she had to pull him to her body, her hands threaded into the blonde hair, covered in red. 

‘Please...please….’ she sobbed into his frozen neck as she rocked with him. ‘No...I’m sorry….I’m so sorry…’

The heavy sobs wracked her chest as she cried onto his pale skin, the skin that would never see the sun again. Hermione didn’t even flinch when she felt their arms around her, cradling her against the cold thing in her arms. Letting her head fall back onto someone’s shoulder, she opened her eyes to the heavens, the stars mocking her in their glory as she screamed once more. This time she screamed for herself. She screamed for Draco Malfoy. She screamed for the future she had lost and for the illusion they had created.

* * *

Notes: I know the update was sooner than expected, but I just couldn't stop myself. I am so sorry for this chapter, it was heartbreaking to write, I don't know how I am going to sleep tonight. My poor babies.

Please keep the beautiful comments coming - I adore them!


	27. Chapter 27

Hermione dragged her eyes open, blinking at the blinding light tumbling in through the open curtain.  _**Looking but not seeing**. _ Her head felt heavy, she could already feel a headache blooming across her forehead and for a moment she wondered why she had woken up. She closed her eyes again, willing herself to sleep so that the waves that rolled through her would be calm. She felt the sag of the mattress behind her and opened them again, glancing at the cold empty mattress on the other side of the bed.  **_Draco was silent and still, almost statuesque in his slumber._ ** She did not immediately turn, just stared at the wall opposite her, breathing through her nose and blinking. The day had come too soon for her, she could not face it.

Whoever was behind her sat silently, waiting for her to make the first move. Rolling slightly, she saw Harry looking down at her.  _ Empty as they looked. _ She swallowed, registrering that her throat was tight and swollen and impossibly dry.  **_The scream that lit the night sky._ ** Scanning over his face it was clear that he had not slept. Part of her remembered him having to step back to the Ministry once he had finally settled her the previous night and a flash of concern ran through her as she took in his bloodshot eyes. The distant tears that had welled in his eyes had been replaced by a distance in him that she could not place. The other part of her could only remember the flashes of pain.  _**The stone shocking her**.  _ He had changed clothes, however, as he was no longer caked in mud and grime. Hermione was thankful for this.  **_Even the blood was dry._ **

‘Hey,’ he whispered, lifting his hand and running it over her hair and down her face.  _**She lifted her hand to touch it**.  _ Hermione did not respond, she didn’t really know what to say and the tightness in her throat stopped her even if she did have something. She closed her eyes at the touch of his soft hand, the heavy weight on her skin reminded her that she was awake, that dreaming was not on the cards for today.  **_The illusion they had created._ **

‘Are you hungry?’ he asked her, his hand still resting on her check, his thumb moving in slow circles across her cheekbone. Hermione looked away from him, unable to maintain contact with his passionate green eyes, alive and wild.  _ Looking but not seeing.  _ Slowly, she shook her head. Her mind was fuzzy, her stomach empty and heavy, she couldn’t even contemplate eating. Hermione turned back over and closed her eyes, feeling Harry leave before she slipped back into the darkness.

When she awoke again, she had turned over and was now face to face with Ron, who was sitting on the floor and staring at her.  **_Empty as they looked._ ** Unlike Harry, he gave her a small smile, his lips curling at the edges against his tight, pale skin. The smile didn’t reach his eyes. Her eyes drifted to the window where the afternoon sun was high in the sky and she sighed to herself.  **_Never see the sun._ ** How was this day not over? She wanted to scream. She was desperate to cry - but the energy was gone.  **_Nothing but cold._ **

‘I made you a sandwich,’ Ron said. Her head moved back to face him. ‘You don’t have to eat it, but I put it under Stasis so you can have it at any time.’

Hermione realised she should be hungry, she should be starving. The last time she had eaten had been before….well - before.  _ S **he lifted her hand to touch it.** _ She saw the sandwich resting on the bedside table, the sight of it made her sick.  _**The bile edging closer to the surface**.  _ She took a deep calming breath, grabbing hold of the duvet and pulled over her head, determined to block out the light and the world to give her a few more hours of nothing before she had to deal with everything.  **_Nothing but cold._ **

The final time she woke, she was not alone. Harry and Ron were laying either side of her, fast asleep and dreaming of the world they inhabited.  _**She screamed for the future**. _ The room was draped in darkness, a faint light coming from the corridor. She willed herself to sleep once more, but knew it was in vain - her body was finished with sleep, her mind would not allow her that peace anymore.  **_She screamed for herself._ **

Gently lifting herself and scooting to the bottom of the bed, Hermione leant over with her feet planted firmly on the hardwood floor and scrubbed the palms of her hands over her face, letting the heel of her hands press into her eyes. Breathing deeply, she tried not to focus on anything but the way the air filled her lungs and left again. As she stood and walked towards the open door to the rest of the house, movement out of the corner of her eye caught her and she turned to look at Harry and Ron in the bed. In her absence, Ron had rolled inwards towards Harry and Harry, in turn, had grasped at the front of Ron’s shirt as if his life depended on it. Watching them like this, their small intimacies unbridled in their unconsciousness, falling into each other in the dead of night, she felt the dull ache in her heart that told her that she could have had that with him. That she did have that with him. It was a revelation that she might always feel like this now, a revelation that falling had killed her. 

The air in the corridor was cold.  _**The shivering in her body**. _ Hermione fought to keep her limbs at bay as they tried to grab one another around her middle, as her left arm started to itch out of desperation to be touched and held. Her footsteps were light as she padded towards the bathroom, the light in there forcing her to slam her eyes shut against the nefarious glow the lanterns emitted. _**The stars mocking her**. _ Feeling her way towards the sink basin, she rested her hands on it, the full weight of her shoulders -  _**stone shocking her shoulder** \-  _ put down upon the porcelain.  **_Pale skin that would never see the sun._ **

Her eyes shot open, trying hard to keep the memories at bay, the way in which he had looked and felt. The fierce urge to scream leapt back up as she met her own reflection and was plunged into the faded actions of last night and what had followed.

  
  


_ It took everything they had to pull Hermione from the body, his body. His limp limbs were hanging as odd angles as she held him to her, his hair dank and dull. Harry had tried, but she could see through her own tears that he was crying too, she didn’t think to ask who he was crying for. He had collapsed against a wall, his own hands clawing at his face as his head dropped back with a thud against the wall. The muffled shouting of the thing in the corner was overwhelming and Harry’s rocking did nothing to ease the pain in her chest. _

_ It was George that successfully managed to make her loosen her grip. _

_ ‘Hermione,’ he said softly into her ear, brushing stray hairs from her forehead. ‘We have to get him back. His mum will be worried.’ _

_ Looking into his deep chocolate eyes she was stuck with a sense of longing for him to hold her instead, but she nodded and let Ron take the body out of her arms. He had just finished sending off a Patronus telling Dawlish and Kingsley to meet them at the Ministry. She watched him lift Draco like he was a doll, like he weighed nothing at all. Ron couldn’t look at him, Harry refused, Hermione couldn’t look away. She had seen it before, bodies carried in the movies, and had imagined that the loose hanging hand was a ploy used by directors for emotional connection to an audience. Now that his hand hung limp before her, and he reached for the warmth it once held, she came to the conclusion that everything she had ever seen was real. _

_ It was then that Harry helped her to her feet and pulled her to his chest. Hermione buried her face there, trying to rid her nostrils of the smell of Draco - he did not smell like him, it was just blood and rot. She clung to the warmth and felt him wrap her arms around her, his own breath shuddering from the effort to calm himself. She heard George mutter a stunning spell at the creature in the corner and two pop’s told her that Ron and George had left.  _

_ ‘If I leave here, it’s real.’ she whispered into his body. She felt him nod against her head. _

_ ‘Can we just stay here Harry? Grow old?’ she said, her voice breaking as she repeated the words from so long ago. He sobbed against her when he heard her, his hands moving to cup the back of her head. _

_ ‘I would have - to stop this. I would have.’ He let out a shaky breath and she felt Harry tighten his grip around her as he squeezed them through a tube and the icy wind of the hill was replaced with the dank chill of the Ministry Atrium. _

_ They were met by the Minister and Dawlish, who were pale faced as they took in the collection of people that stood before them. Dawlish took charge of Greyback and in a rush, he had popped away again to settle the lowlife into a cell in Azkaban. Hermione watched as his eyes filled with joy at the sight of the thing in chains, and the bile had risen again at the juxtaposition of Ron standing next to him, the body draped over his arms like material. Dawlish hadn’t even looked at Draco. _

_ Harry took Hermione by the hand and started to walk with her through the halls. _

_ ‘I’ll be in my office,’ he muttered as they walked past Kinglsey. Hermione was desperate to turn around and look at Ron once more, but resisted as she heard Kingsley speak to him. _

_ ‘Take the boy to the Department of Mysteries. They will help you lay him out. I will go and collect Mrs Malfoy. Weasley, I trust you to make the statements.’ _

_ When they got to Harry’s office, Hermione didn’t look around as she was placed in a chair, her eyesight fixed on her knees and the dark circles being made there by silent tears. She should be intrigued; the first time she had seen their department, the place her best friends spend the majority of their time, but she could not bear to look up. She did not need to as Harry knelt in front of her, his face still lined from the tears he had shed. As she peered at him, she realised that he did not know what to say to her.  _

_ ‘Do you want some water?’ his croaky voice asked, sounding like he was almost not keeping it together at all. She shook her head at him and saw him look away, gathering his strength for the conversation that had to follow. When his eyes found hers again she was shocked at how green they were, she had never seen them so piercing. _

_ ‘Kingsley will have to get Narcissa to identify the body for records.’ his voice was low and steady, but she watched his jaw tremble as he spoke. ‘They won’t be able to release it to her officially for at least a week. I’ll-’ he took a breath. ‘I’ll visit Hogwarts tonight after we go home.’ _

_ ‘Do you want me to come?’ she asked. _

_ He shook his head. ‘I want you at Grimmauld,’ he stated. _

_ ‘Ron is going to be back soon - they will want you to make a statement. But...I'll tell them no - you don’t have to.’ _

_ Her lip trembled as she spoke. ‘I have to Harry,’ she whispered and he nodded carefully. _

_ The statement had been simple, the questions were perfunctory. Ron had filled in the parchment for them already - that's what Kinglsey had wanted him to do. All they needed her for was to agree with what he had said and sign it. As she read through, she noticed how clinical everything was, how clean and precise. There was no mention of Greyback cowering in the corner, no words to describe how she fell into the body in anguish, no poetry about his already dried blood and pasty face.She wanted to write how she had felt lost and alone. She wanted to write how she would never forgive herself for this; but that was too pretty. _

_ The problems came when Dawlish had returned from the prison and told them that they needed to view the body. Hermione’s muscles had clamped down like a vice when she heard it and the boys vehemently protested that it could wait, but he did not let up. Somewhere, deep inside herself, the Gryffindor reared its head and she pushed herself to stand on unsteady legs. For now, he was still here, still resting in this building and she wanted to make sure that she saw him before she went. _

_ The lift down to the Department of Mysteries was silent and Hermione felt a chill of fear as she saw the corridor that had so much history for her. From midnight battles, to polyjuice excursions and dementor chases, it was strange to walk through these halls knowing that she was meant to be there, no matter how much she wished she was not. Hermione saw Kingsley at the end of the corridor, standing beside an open door. As they drew closer, Hermione heard the sound of crying and her gut wrenched once more as a pale and beautiful figure came into view. _

_ ‘Mrs Malfoy, would you like to come to my office?’ he asked the woman.  _

_ The last time Hermione had seen Narcissa had been at the end of Draco’s trial and she had looked formidable. She was clad in green robes and wearing her best jewellery. Now, she was a shadow of that person as she nodded to the Minister, turning her back to the room that held her son. Hermione had lost him tonight, Narcissa had lost everything. _

_ As she saw the three of them, she stopped and Hermione could see her jaw moving as she then moved to close the distance. _

_ ‘I wanted to say thank you,’ she said, after a long silence. Her voice was so broken that it almost made Hermione cry. ‘You did everything that you could.’ _

_ ‘Mrs Malfoy,’ Harry stepped towards her and looked like he wanted to touch her, his arm flinching with the effort to restrain himself. ‘I am so sorry for your loss.’ _

_ ‘As I am for yours, Mr Potter,’; she whispered, moving her elegant hand to cup his cheek. Hermione watched as Harry closed his eyes and a stray tear moved down his cheek, Narcissa moving her thumb to stroke it away with a sad smile. _

_ Hermione felt shame flood her veins, she did not think she deserved Narcissa’s thanks. Watching her softness with Harry all but reminded her of the son she had now lost to the end of the world. Narcissa reached forward and placed her hand on Hermione’s before leaving, the warmth of her hand shocked Hermione and it rooted her to the spot well after the two adults had departed. _

_ ‘Are you sure about this Hermione?’ Ron asked, placing a hand on her shoulder.  _

_ In response, she walked forward, heading into the white and clean room as if her life depended on it. And there he was, laid out against the stone slab, shining in his paleness, looking as if he were alive. She stopped in front of him, taking in the way in which his body rested, the lean figure of him so unnaturally still. _

_ ‘He looks so small,’ she whispered, not caring who heard her. Glancing back, she saw Ron envelop Harry, pulling him against his chest, his hands moving to Harry’s head as he rocked him gently from side to side. This had broken him, she could see it. Harry was always so strong, but since the War, he found it so difficult to lose the ones close to him. It was like she was looking at him after Remus’ funeral again and she went to take a step towards them when Ron caught her eyeline and softly shook his head. _

_ ‘I have Harry. Be with Draco, he needs you.’  _

_ She turned back around and, blocking out the sounds of Harry’s small sobs and Ron’s shushes, placed her hand on his chest, feeling it still and silent beneath her. She closed her eyes, almost praying that she would feel the heartbeat she had so many times before, holding her breath to match the stillness in his body.  _

_ Hermione lost count of the minutes she stood there with her hand upon him. The three of them in that room just waited as a silent guard over their fallen friend. During the battle, Hermione had seen so many like this; lost to the next world. Here, in this small room, was different. The war was meant to be over, they were all meant to be okay, he was meant to start a life free of prejudice and pain.  _

_ This was the most difficult thing she had ever done; worse than saying goodbye to her parents, worse than seeing Harry dead. As she looked down at his broken frame, knowing that this would be the last time she saw him, knowing that she would never feel him again. Leaning over, she touched her forehead to his, wishing she could feel his hands at the nape of her neck. As she rose again, the tears tracking her face were slow but vigilant. _

_ ‘Enough now!’ she said, touching his cold hand. ‘Goodbye love,’ she whispered to the body, slowly removing her hand and turning. Walking past Harry and Ron and into the empty corridors of the Ministry. _

  
  


Hermione opened her eyes, seeing her own reflection was still watery. Turning from the mirror she made her way back out into the house and down towards the living room. Hermione never thought she would miss the way that Grimmauld Place used to be, but now in the silence of the moment, she wished for the creak of the floorboards and the shuffling of Kreacher in every corner. Staring at the liquor cabinet in front of her, she sighed, she knew it was a bad idea to drown her sorrows. She had seen first hand in her Grandfather what alcohol could do to someone, how it could affect everything in their lives. But right now, Hermione was desperate for a small out, something to shut the screaming of her memories. Something to stop her from seeing Draco everywhere she looked.

‘Pour me one?’ she swung around to see Ron standing in the doorway. She nodded and collected two glasses, filling them with amber liquid and passing one to him. They raised them to one another in a silent salute and Hermione tipped it down in one, feeling the releif of the burn as it passed through her tired muscles.

‘I shouldn’t be drinking,’ she said to him. Her voice was hoarse from underuse and thick with emotion.

‘Who cares!’ he shrugged, his face blank of anything but the obvious burn of the liquor.

‘Harry would recommend tea,’ she stated.

‘Harry is asleep. I won’t tell if you won’t?’ he asked her, a slight smirk rose on his face, but quickly dropped when she did not reciprocate.

‘I won’t tell.’

With that he took her glass and poured her another. Hermione decided against downing this one and instead nursed it in her hands as she perched on the armchair of the sofa. She watched as Ron drank his and poured himself a third. Ron had always been one to drink in stressful situations, she remembered that from the funerals.

‘You can stay here you know,’ Ron said after a long period of silence. ‘With us. You don’t need to go back to Hogwarts.’

She sighed. ‘I have to go back Ron.’

For Hermione, it wasn't really a discussion. She knew it would be hard to see the castle now, harder than coming back in September. But yesterday, she had done something she thought she would never have the strength to do. If she didn’t go back, she knew that they would have won, that Pansy would have got away with everything she did to him.

‘No, it’s over there now. You have done your exams. Please stay with me.’

He moved towards her and stopped mere inches from her body. She looked up and down his broad form and thanked someone for his strength in times like this. 

‘I would regret it. Just as I would have in September if I had stayed with you.’

‘I don’t want you to. Hermione…’

‘He would have wanted me to go back and finish my time as Head Girl. He would have wanted me to graduate.’

‘You don’t know what he wanted,’ Ron ground out and Hermione could see the tears in his eyes.

‘What do you mean Ron?’ she asked him, her voice dangerously low.

Ron turned away from her, his shoulder slumped as he dragged one arm across his eyes.

‘Going back will hurt you - and he has hurt you too much already this year.’ he said in a quiet voice as if he was ashamed of it. ‘I saw you Hermione, it was just like Harry all over again. Seeing him there, seeing you over him…’ he turned to look at her ‘I can’t have you look like that any more.’

‘Its my decision.’ Hermione said, raising her voice and feeling the heat rise in her face.

‘I can’t let you go.’ Ron matched her.

‘It’s not your choice,’ she shouted back, finding the strength from somewhere to fight for herself.

‘What’s going on?’ a small voice came from the door. Hermione looked to see Harry standing there, his clothes disheveled, his hair on end, looking between the two of them and the glasses they held.

‘Ron are you drinking?’ he asked, frowning as Ron put the cup down.

‘Tell her Harry.’ he pleaded with him.

‘Tell her what?’

‘He doesn’t want me going back. He thinks I should stay here.’

‘She’s safe here, nothing can get to her with us around. You know I’m right.’

Harry looked between the two of them again; from Hermione whose jaw was clenched tight and her hand by her side clenching into a fist, to Ron who was breathing heavy, his eyes big and innocent.

‘Please tell her Harry.’ Ron’s voice broke. ‘Please tell her for me.’

Harry walked over and grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her towards Ron, his other hand moving up to Ron’s shoulder.

‘I can’t do that, Ron. Hermione is right, it’s her decision. But please, I don’t want to fight, we already lost so much today.’

At his words, Rob started to cry; tears flowing down his face unchecked. 

‘I don’t want to lose anyone else,’ he sobbed.

And it was finally Ron’s turn to break, the strength of them whittled down to a moment of weakness. Hermione stepped into him and wrapped her arms around his middle, tucking her head under his chin. Unlike the last time he had cried, Harry was here to hold them both. Hermione thought to the amount of times in the last year they had had to hold each other and cursed the world for everything it was made of.

‘Miss Granger, I cannot begin to express how sorry I am for your loss.’ Professor McGonagall said as she sat in front of her.

After three days at Grimmauld Place, the boys taking it in shifts to go to the office and Hermione spending most of the time in bed, she had decided that the sooner she returned to Hogwarts, the sooner her mind could be occupied. The Headmistress had ushered her into a small sitting area just off the office and had sat her down, offering her a cup of tea which Hermione refused with a smile.

‘Thank you, Professor.’ Hermione said.

'Miss Gr - Hermione,’ she spoke softly. ‘I am surprised you have decided to return so quickly. I am more than happy to grant you extra time to grieve with your loved ones.’

‘Please Professor, I can’t stay at Grimmauld right now, I need a distraction.’

‘But I am sure that the Hogwarts student body will not be one, what with the article that came out this morning in the Prophet.’

Hermione sighed, closing her eyes and thinking about it. The woman did have a point, the Daily Prophet this morning had a full front page spread on the capture of Fenrir Greyback and the loss of a ‘vital war hero’. Ron had tried to get rid of the paper, but Hermione had grabbed it before he had a chance. The sub-article was titled ‘Death of a Hero - Draco Malfoy; The Order’s Greatest Weapon.’ Harry went on to say that Skeeter had been fishing about the Ministry for a comment and whether or not Hermione would be interested in an interview.

‘I do understand Professor,’ Hermione said. ‘But honestly, I haven’t that much longer to spend in the castle and I know that Draco would not have wanted me to lose out on that.’

‘Well - I can agree with you on that. Draco was - fiercely devoted to both you and the school this year. It was an honour to see him grow.’

Hermione thanked her and stood, but before leaving, a thought popped into her head.

‘Sorry Professor but....Blaise and Theo...are they….’

‘They are...grieving as you are Miss Granger. I am sure that once they hear you are back at school, they will want to speak to you.’

‘And Pan….’

‘Miss Parkinson has been questioned and released . I would advise staying clear of that particular student.’

As Hermione made the journey to her dormitory she was followed by whispers and looks. Not only was she a war hero and head girl, but now she had lost her love and students could not seem to stop themselves from having a good look. She didn’t begrudge them, secretly she hoped that it might persuade some of the students to think about the risks they run when they dive headfirst into the unknown.

Pushing apart the tapestry, she sighed and was thankful to be alone.

‘Hermione!’

Her head shot up to see Blaise and Theo sitting in the chairs by the fire. As she walked further into the room, Theo stood up and edged around the side to stand in front of her. Hermione was blinking rapidly trying to clear her eyes of tears and Theo’s lips were pressed tight together.

‘Theo…’ she whispered. 

The two of them broke their stance and flung themselves at each other; Hermione threw her hands around his neck and buried her face in his shoulder.

‘Theo, I’m so sorry,’ she said, her voice muffled by the material of his uniform. He pulled back and smoothed out her clothes.

‘Me too,’ he said, in a small voice. ‘I’m sorry Hermione.’

‘I wish I could have been here to tell you. I wanted to but they wouldn’t let me come back any earlier,’ she explained, clutching at his hands.

‘I know, Ginny told us.’ he stopped and looked around the room. He seemed to want to ask something but looked afraid.

‘Theo, it’s okay if you need to ask me something,’ she said, sounding braver than she felt. His eyes widened as if he couldn’t quite believe what she had offered.

‘I...I…’ he stammered, breathing hard, his eyes watering in front of her. ‘I just wanted to know if...if...he got to say goodbye to you.’

‘I got to say goodbye to him,’ she answered and he nodded, hugging her again.

‘Oh stop it!’ Blaise shot up from his seat and looked at the two of them.

‘Blaise!’ said Theo, holding up a hand.

‘Of course he didn’t get to say goodbye to her - he didn’t get to say goodbye to anyone. We know the story Theo - he was dead when they got there. There was nothing left of Draco in that body she said goodbye to.

‘Blaise…’ Hermione started but Blaise stopped her.

‘No Granger! He was gone and he was all alone. What kind of end is that for someone so brave?’ 

Hermione could hear the lump in his throat as he shouted at them, could feel the thickness of his voice in her heart. She walked over and placed a hand on his arm.

‘It wasn’t an end that he deserved,’ she agreed. ‘I want to make that right.’

Blaise nodded and dropped his head. Hermione had meant what she said to him, she was going to get even with everyone who had hurt Draco, with everyone who made it possible for him to die alone, in pain, scared on that cold and lonely island. She wouldn’t rest until she had.

* * *

Notes: Another quick update for this week. To be honest, getting up to the previous chapter was a real struggle and I could not find a way to do my sweet baby Draco much justice and make it worth it. Now that I am able to grieve for him, I can write for him. I hope you enjoyed this.


	28. Chapter 28

It was just before dawn when she felt him; the slow movement of a body behind her, curled against her back. She could not remember what she had been dreaming about, but a warm sensation spread through her and something told her it must have been related to him. The dip of the mattresses and the warmth of his chest against her was enough to rouse her from her sleep and break the barriers between dreaming and awake. She smiled as she felt the back of his finger drag down her jawbone and drag across her lips. Hermione smiled at how gentle he was in the early morning, how he could wake her with a smile against her shoulder and whisper against her ear.

He was whispering now, sweet nothings against her neck. She let her head fall back onto his shoulder, letting him talk her into things that a version of her would have only been able to wish for. It was only after a few minutes of this, she realised that his face was pushed so far against her skin that she could not make out what he was saying. Hermione smiled anyway, drowning in his soft breathing and the smell of him; spice and citrus. It reminded her of expensive perfumes and holidays in the South of France, like he was her secret, exotic getaway. 

His hands were exploring her, slowly making its way up her leg and then pulling at the fabric of her cotton pyjama bottoms, teasing her with his apparent inability to pull them off her hips and allow them to snap back to position. Goosebumps erupted all over her skin, a pattern that reminded her of how lucky she was to be held like this. Keeping her eyes closed, not wanting to invite the real world into this moment, she allowed him to continue his adventure over her skin. Hermione wanted to fall into his touch; the pressure, the soft grazes. When he reached her stomach, he snuck his hand under her top, and she felt the morning cold on his fingertips as he brushed them against her ribs. For a moment, she wanted to ask why his fingers were so cold in the middle of July, but a slow, wet, open mouthed kiss at the nape of her neck shoved that thought from her sleep-addled brain.

Her breath was coming in pants now as he teased her, bringing his hand between the underside of her breast and slowly down to her waistband and back. She groaned, eliciting a soft chuckle from him, and he nuzzled her neck, sucking on her pulse point. Hermione rolled her eyes, knowing she would have to cover yet another red mark on her skin before today’s ceremony. Sometimes, especially when he was on her like this, she was reminded that they were still so young. That they were still so enamored with each other that after these encounters, their person was littered with the little, round marks that used to embarrass her so much. When she used to find students doing that to each other on her patrols, she would huff and make remarks about the disgusting habit or that people weren’t possessions, so they didn’t need to be marked. She had wished that they would just grow up, that she would never debase herself in that way. She laughed to herself as she pushed her skin towards him, wishing he would suck harder, mark her for longer. That laugh turned into a moan as his fingertips dove down just under the line of her underwear and tickled her skin just above the apex of her thighs.

Hermione couldn’t take the teasing anymore, rolling over she went to kiss him, longing to feel the warmth of his lips and taste him on her tongue. Hermione needed to feel the way he pushed into her, was desperate to nip at the soft pink flesh until it was raw and swollen beneath hers. She pushed herself into him, their lips meeting, her heart beating fast as she plowed her chest into his. 

It took a moment for Hermione to notice that something wasn’t right with the kiss. It was hard, but only from her insistence, he was dull and his lips were unmoving. Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, feeling his lips cold under hers. Pulling back, she opened her eyes and instead of the stormy grey she expected, was met with the opaque and milky eyes of a body. Draco’s body. In her bed.

Screaming, Hermione was pulled from her nightmare, into her darkened dormitory room, her bed empty besider her. No breathing, no touches, no cold, no body. Breathing heavy, cold sweat running down her back, she looked to the clock to see that it was only 4 in the morning. Groaning, she was about to turn over and try to get a few more hours in before she needed to shower when the bedroom door burst open.

‘I heard screaming!’ Ginny panted as she stood in the doorway, dressed in her Holyhead Harpies tracksuit.

‘Sorry Gin, just a bad dream!’ she offered the younger girl a weak smile and shook her head. 

‘Was it…’ Hermione knew what Gin had wanted to ask, but trailed off with a slight nod and pointed look.

‘I’ll just let you sleep then,’ she smiled, turning slowly as if she was waiting for Hermione to ask her to stay. It did not come, and Hermione watched the retreating red-head walk back through to the other bedroom; her old bedroom.

Rising carefully from the bed, she walked to the window and peered across the lush green grounds that stood below her, letting her mind turn over as she looked. This had not been the first dream of it’s kind, and Hermione was sure it would not be the last. In the three weeks since she had returned to Hogwarts, Hermione had suffered more than she could have foreseen, more than anyone clearly realised when they let her back on the grounds.

The first dream she had, she had been running away from Death Eaters in the castle, Draco’s hand secured in her’s. When she turned, he was no longer there. She had screamed for him, turning wildly and when Greyback had arrived, he had looked down at her with his piercing grey eyes and the face of the blonde. When he had grabbed her and spoken to her, his voice was a thick drawl and she had awoken crying and heaving. Hermione had been unable to go to any lessons that day; Ginny had found her curled up in bed at lunchtime. 

In a potions lesson, Professor Slughorn had asked her to retrieve some ingredients from the potions stores. She had sighed, not really wanting to leave her cauldron bubbling under Lavender’s care, but had gone anyway not wanting to disappoint anyone. It was on the way out, an armful of jars of rat spleens that she had seen his blonde hair across the room, for an instant mistaking the flick of Luna's hair for him. She knew it was irrational, but she had dropped the contents of her arms anyway, causing the spleens to fly everywhere and the girls closest to her to scream in fright. She had fled the scene; Luna returned her things to her with a cup of hot chocolate later than evening.

The worst, and possibly the catalyst for the new sleeping arrangements, Hermione had been walking the corridors after dinner and she cut down a hidden passageway, determined to avoid pity in the student’s eyes. Unfortunately, she had interrupted a pair of sixth-years making out against the wall, only Hermione could not see them. All she could see was Draco and herself, his hands crawling slowly under her thigh and under her skirt, her hands buried into his locks. He was moaning into her mouth, telling her wicked things with his awful tongue and holding her like she was going to run away at any moment. She had watched her own head gently fall against the wall behind her in ecstasy and his dive into the, now revealed, flesh of her neck. It was only when they shouted at her to ‘Go Away!’ that she snapped out of it and ran. This time, it was Theo who had found her, pulling open the door of the bathroom in her dormitory to see her sitting on the floor of the shower, water running over her fully clothed body, as she sobbed against the tiles with abandonment. She had wanted to scream at him to leave her there, that she did not want to leave the warmth of the water, that it was relieving the pressure on her chest. But she had been surprised when he dropped his cloak off, stepped under the water and slid down the porcelain, pulling her against his chest as he too, started to sob.

Since then, Ginny, Blaise and Theo had all but moved into the Head’s dormitory with her. Of course, she had insisted that she did not need them, that she was perfectly capable of handling herself and getting through her grief without them. That was until Ginny had mentioned that she thought Theo and Blaise needed her just as much. That was how Ginny and Blaise had moved into her room, and Theo had managed to convince a house elf to set up a bed in the common room, surrounded by a privacy shield. The only thing that really came as a surprise to her, was that Professor McGonagall had not come barging in and forced them all back to their own houses.

When Hermione eventually decided to return to bed, it was already 6, so she gave up and moved through to the bathroom. Getting herself ready for today was going to be difficult, but she knew that it would be the most important day, the day that she had returned here for.

‘Did you think this day would ever come?’ Neville shot them the question as they filed into the Great Hall later that morning.

‘To be honest, I was certain I wouldn’t make it to the end of last year,’ laughed Ginny, as she waved over to Blaise, who was talking with Theo in a far corner. 

Hermione smiled at the two of them as they chatted about making it this far, but did not feel like joining in. As they walked into the hall, now filled with rows of chairs instead of the usual house tables, Hermione was filled with dread. Yes, this is something she had been waiting for since September, the reason she had decided to return, but stepping in this room felt like the end of something too big, something that she was just not ready for.

Looking up at the enchanted ceiling; today a beautiful blue sky, she was filled with the wonder of the first time she had seen it, the first night in the castle. And now, as she peered back at the banners hung on the stone walls and the students and family members filing in, she realised that this would be the last time she saw it in a while.

‘I heard it’s enchanted to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History,’ a voice from behind muttered. Spinning around, she saw Harry and Ron standing before her, wearing smart robes and big smiles. She threw her arms around Harry’s neck and pulled back to his laughing face as Ron planted a wet kiss on her cheek.

‘Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?’ she asked.

‘Because we knew you would tell us not to,’ laughed Ron. ‘Hey Nev.’ he smiled as Neville walked over.

‘Good to see you two, come to watch us leave these hallowed halls? Or just to make us watch a fool of ourselves.’

‘Longbottom, you always make a fool of yourself,’ drawled Blaise, as he was dragged over to join them by Ginny’s hand clamped around his arm.

‘Brother dearest,’ the youngest Weasley girl smiled. ‘What have I done for this great honour?’ 

‘Nothing at all,’ he smiled. ‘I am here for the girl,’ he said pointing a thumb in Hermione’s directions. ‘Mum and Dad are here for you.’

And before long, it had descended into a small amount of chaos. Hermione watched as a reunion of people happened in front of her; the Weasleys hugging their daughter, she introducing them to Blaise, Neville laughing with Mr Weasley and Luna fawning over Mrs Weasely’s outfit for the occasion. She felt Harry grab her hand and squeeze it as he stood next to her.

‘We still have 10 minutes before the ceremony,’ he said. ‘Want a chat?’

Grateful, she nodded and he pulled her out of the Great Hall. On their way out, they passed more students, more family members looking at Harry with awe and finally Professor McGonagall.

‘Please don’t be too long, Potter.’ she sighed when she saw them. ‘I cannot really do this without the Head Girl sitting in the front row.’

‘I will bring her back in one piece,’ he laughed, and they both strode out into the brilliant sunshine.

They spent the first few minutes walking in the silence around the edge of the lake; the place that the two of them always came to talk. She remembered walking with him the night after the Champions were chosen and after the night they had lost Dumbledore. It seemed like a right of passage that he would be bringing her here now.

‘You probably don’t want to talk about it…’ he started, and she looked to her shoes as they shuffled along, ‘But Ginny may have mentioned that she moved into your dorm in a letter.’

Hermione nodded but kept silent.

‘Do you want to talk about it?’ he asked her in a soft and gentle voice.

  
  
  


_ ‘Do you want to talk about it?’ she asked him in a soft and gentle voice. _

_ Looking at the face of her best friend was difficult today. It was hard and unyielding, covered in healing bruises and lines of tiredness. _

_ ‘I might have had enough talking about this one, Hermione.’ he said through gritted teeth, as he kicked along a small pebble in front of him. She sighed but plowed on anyway. _

_ ‘You know, he would want you to…’ _

_ ‘What Hermione?’ he suddenly shouted, making her jump. ‘What would he have wanted? I am sure he would have wanted to be alive!’ _

_ ‘Harry, Sirius would have…’ she tried to argue. _

_ ‘Sirius is dead, Hermione.’ _

_ They both stopped in their travels around the edge of the smooth black water and she watched as Harry slumped to the floor. His knees were up and his elbows resting on them as he looked defiantly out at the lake, the sun bouncing off the surface, the only ripples being made by the Giant Squid as he played in front of them. She slowly joined him, laying a hand on his elbow, which he pushed off quickly turning to occupy himself with throwing the pebbles into the water. _

_ They stayed in silence for a long time, Harry throwing rocks and Hermione watching the squid and she wondered about what she should actually say to him. Hermione had never really had anyone close to her die, never felt the pain of loss that he had felt too often in his young life. It upset her to know that this boy in front of her had to deal with so much and had lost, who he considered, to be a father figure.  _

_ ‘It’s just so...fucked up,’ Harry whispered after a while. Hermione’s head shot to look at him but he was still staring out ahead of him. Harry never really swore, and it shocked her; so much that she didn’t really know how to respond. _

_ ‘When did it get like this?’ he asked her, finally meeting her eyes, with a lost expression on his face. _

_ ‘I’m not really sure, Harry,’ she answered him. ‘Maybe it was always like this.’ _

_ ‘What do you mean?’ _

_ ‘Well - it’s not as if one day it was all rainbows and butterflies and then the next it was skulls and crossbones.’ she tried to laugh, but it died on his lips. ‘Even back in first year it was doom and gloom from the get go.’ _

_ ‘I don’t think that’s true,’ he furrowed his eyebrows at her, as if he was trying hard to remember. _

_ ‘There were great times, like Quidditch and hanging out,’ he looked optimistic, Hermione was glad to see him like that.  _

_ ‘We had great times this year too,’ she pushed on. Hermione wanted him so desperately to see that,even with everything bad happening, there was still something amazing about his life and the people around him. _

_ ‘I guess,’ he shrugged. Dropping his head, a sad voice left him again. ‘They won’t even be having a funeral for him.’ _

_ ‘I know.’ _

_ ‘I just wanted to say goodbye.’ _

_ ‘Why do you need a funeral to do that?’ Hermione asked him. _

_ Once, when she was little, she remembered that her pet dog had died. It had always been around, probably her parents had bought it before she was born, and so losing her was probably her first experience at loss. Hermione so clearly remembered her parents coming back from the vet without her, and crying all night about the pet that would never return. She had begged them to pick her up, pleaded with them to bring her home and when they told her she wouldn’t be the same, she had said with a strong voice, I need her for the funeral, I need to say bye. Her father had bent down and said ‘You can say goodbye whenever you want, you don’t need a funeral to do that. She is listening.’ _

_ Hermione turned to Harry and saw his eyes were foggy behind the shine of his glasses. _

_ ‘I don’t know what you believe Harry, but I always thought that if someone loved you, they were always going to be with you. I know that’s what Sirius told you. So, just talk to him, tell him goodbye. He will hear you with or without the fancy event.’ _

_ Harry nodded slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek as he took in her words. Sometimes, when she gave the boys advice, she worried that she didn’t believe in it herself. That she was just spouting nonsense to make sure they would be okay. At least today, she knew what she spouted to him meant something. _

_ She watched him rise and held out his hands to help her from the floor. They stood, facing each other a little way apart, looking at each other awkwardly. _

_ ‘Thanks Hermione,’ he muttered, and gave her a hug before starting to walk back to the castle. _

  
  


Hermione had started to feel a little lighter, but when she walked into the Great Hall and saw everyone taking their seats, the nerves started to rise in her stomach. Moving towards the front, she saw where she was supposed to sit; the front two chairs reserved for the Head Boy and Head Girl. Today, only one was clear for her to sit, the other covered in a black shroud. Sitting next to it was difficult. 

Hermione understood the reason for it; Professor McGonagall didn’t want him to be forgotten today, wanted the students to have a chance to remember him, wanted them all to realise that he was graduating today as well. But all those lovely thoughts could not pull her from realising that they were empty gestures, just like his funeral had been.

'Welcome all.’ said Professor McGonagall as she stood up at the front of the hall. ‘Welcome to our graduating class, and welcome to their families and friends who have taken the time to join us today to congratulate them.

Resilience. This is a word that is thrown around in many different contexts and can mean so many different things. I believe that in all contexts, it applies to our graduating class this year - our two graduating classes. I have been witness to this group of extraordinary young wizards and witches. I have watched as they trained, learned and explored, pushing themselves to educational excellence. But I have also seen them fight and defend the rights of others, band together in dark times and shown what the future of our world is capable of. I am proud to say that every single witch and wizard here is a commendation to the magical community and seeing them go forth into that world, today, is one of the finest moments of my career.

Of course, I don’t want to get too emotional or make anyone cry, heaven forbid,’ a few people around the hall laughed. ‘So I wanted to give my final farewell to the students and to tell you all that whatever you do, whatever comes next, our world is lucky to have you.’

There was an applause that erupted among the students and visitors, but Hermione could feel that lump in her throat rising.

‘Now before I hand off to our esteemed Head Girl, who will be making your departing speech today, I wanted us to take the time to remember everyone who would be sitting with us today. We remember Mr Colin Creevey, Miss Fay Dunbar, Mr Wayne Hopkins, Miss Lisa Turpin and Mr Oliver Riggers. I want us all to remember, especially, one of our own who was lost this year. Our Head Boy, Draco Malfoy.’

Hermione felt her hands clutch at the sides of her chair. She had known this was coming, the headmistress had made sure to run it by her to ensure she was prepared, but it still came to her like a punch in the gut. The hall was deadly silent after his name was spoken and she could already feel the hundreds of eyes that had zoomed to her like magnets, trying to see her own reaction.

‘Mr Malfoy, although he struggled throughout his time here at Hogwarts, showed nothing but true bravery at the end. I was proud to name him Head Boy this year, and am proud of what he was able to achieve while in the position. He has shown, not just the students sitting in front of me, but the rest of the school, what someone can do when faced with their own wrong-doings and made it clear that it is never too late to ask for forgiveness, especially of yourself’

There was a moment of silence as she hung her head slightly, pausing so her words could sink in. 

‘I would now like to introduce your Head Girl, Miss Hermione Granger.’

Hermione rose to her feet on unsteady legs and walked, shaking, up to the front of the hall. As she turned to see the eyes facing her, she felt more nervous than she had ever before. Hermione was used to public speaking, having done it several times before. But now, with the weight of the year on her shoulders, she was finding it harder to push that stone of doubt in her stomach away. She took in a deep breath and smiled when she saw Ron stand up in front of everyone and give her two thumbs up. There was a smattering of laughter as she saw Harry pull him down, and suddenly she knew she would be able to do this.

‘Fellow students,’ she cleared her throat and continued. ‘Guests and Professors. When I sat down to write what I wanted to say today, it was maybe the first time I had really struggled with an assignment’ 

Again, there was laughter and she could so clearly hear Ron about the rest.

‘As I am sure nearly everyone here will attest, I have a passion for learning. If anyone was to ask where I was, the answer would undoubtedly have been the Library or a teacher's office. My love of learning has, of course, made my time here enjoyable and has enabled me to grow in education and by professional means. Of course, as with everyone else, my time here has also been tumultuous to say the best and with my returning eighth years, we have seen some of the most unprecedented times in the our communities history.Where many might not understand what school did for us then, I can say that my time at Hogwarts was an invaluable last year in my absence, and it was this year in my presence.

But, where some of you may be taking from the end of this year, relief that it is over, or joy that it happened - I am taking a level of peace that I was here. Where some of you may be leaving with ambitions for potions or dreams of healing, I hope that you are also leaving with a hope for the future that some of our classmates will not be able to experience. My words to you are to use this time to be better, to strengthen our community and rely on those around you. Make every moment together count, make every minute of the day mean something for you and your families.

Finally, I would like to express my thanks to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Not for the lessons, or the food, or the comfort - although they were all marvelous - but for the friendships. Over my time here I have grown to love more than I would have ever thought possible and to take the risks for the people I love. I have understood the meaning of the word so deeply that it has scarred my heart. I am sure I am not alone in saying that I know that the people I have loved here, I will love for the rest of my life and beyond. And that is the true magic of Hogwarts - we arrive almost always alone, and leave arm in arm with our fellow witches and wizards, embraced in a world unlike any other.

Now please remember - Never tickle a sleeping dragon!’

At the end of her speech, applause filled the room and Hermione could see a sea of people stand to congratulate her. Feeling a little numb, she ambled her way back to her chair to listen to the final announcements. Looking to the empty chair next to her, she sighed, wishing that he could have helped the speech but knowing that somewhere he was making a snide comment about what she had said.

Hermione managed to catch up with Ron and Harry later on, when everyone had started to file out and cry, speaking to each other as if this was the last time they would see them. Harry was surrounded by people and she could see Ron desperately trying to clear the way so they could get over to her.

‘Thank you everyone,’ came Professor McGonagall’s voice. ‘The train will be leaving soon, so please make sure you have got your things and are ready to depart.’

Harry looked extremely thankful as everyone started to grumble and make their way out of the front doors and to the black carriages awaiting them outside. When they reached her Ron pulled her into a hug and congratulated her, Harry placing a hand on her shoulder and giving her a knowing smile.

‘So...present time?’ Ron asked, looking as excited as a child on Christmas morning.

‘Please, you really don’t have to.’ she rolled her eyes at them.

‘Sorry, Hermione. You can’t say no to the man.’ Harry laughed.

‘Okay,’ Ron smiled. ‘We wanted to give you this.’

He held out a small box in front of her, red leather and small. She smiled as she took it, once again proclaiming that they really didn’t need to. The two of them, bright eyed and smiling, were looking at her eagerly as she popped the top open to reveal a brass key. She looked up at them confused.

‘What’s this?’ she asked.

‘A key!’ Ron grinned back at her. ‘Brightest witch of her age or what?’

‘I know that,’ she rolled her eyes again. ‘What to?’

‘Grimmauld Place,’ Harry said softly. ‘I know it probably seemed like you would just come home with us anyway, but we didn’t want you to feel that we didn’t want you there. This is a key that allows you to come and go as you please - it’s not my home, it’s ours. All three of us.’

‘Harry…’ Hermione said, her voice breaking as she felt the tears in her eyes.

‘Oh come on your softy!’ Ron pulled her in for another hug. ‘Where are your things? I will go and get them and we can all apparate home.’

When he left the two of them, Harry was watching her nervously.

‘What?’ she asked. ‘Thought I wouldn’t say yes?’

‘It’s not that.’ Harry said, looking down at his shoes.

‘Harry...what we spoke about earlier I…’

‘It’s not really about that either.’ he said, reaching his hand into his inside pocket of his robes and pulling out an envelope. ‘I found this on the kitchen table this morning.’

He passed it to her and when she looked at the yellowing parchment and saw her own name looped across it, her breath caught in her throat. She recognised the writing.

‘How long had it been there?’ she asked, in a small voice.

‘I promise it wasn’t there before. I think….I think it was charmed to only reveal itself today.’

‘Shall I open it?’ she asked him.

‘That’s not my decision to make, Hermione. But - I think you deserve to read it.’

With shaking hands, she brushed her thumb under the seal, feeling the glue tear away. Her mind was racing, wondering what could be written - hoping that she would be able to understand everything more when she read it. Unfolding the parchment inside, she took a deep breath and began to read.

_ My Dearest Hermione, _

_ Nothing could make me prouder of you that I am today. You have shown true dedication and I am so glad that you were able to return to take part in Eighth Year.  _

_ Of course, selfishly, I am glad you returned because the time I spent with you this year were some of the best days of my life - and I know that without you I would not really be the person I am today. I would like to think that the time you spent with me made you just as happy - I know that putting up with me was bound to be hard. _

_ You deserve everything you can get in life and, although it may seem difficult now, I know that you will push to the ends of the earth to make sure everyone is safe and doing the right thing. Please remember everything I have told you, knowing that I am remembered by someone who loved me will make everything much easier. _

_ My final words to you Hermione - Investigations are never made out of straight lines. _

_ All my love _

_ D.M _

Silently, she handed the letter to Harry who scanned it quickly and looked up at her, confused.

‘What did he mean?’ he asked in a small voice.

Hermione shrugged, looking down as a tear rolled down her face. ‘I don’t know,' but she sure as hell was going to find out.

* * *

Notes: As always, a big thank you to everyone who has left kudos or comments for me over the last few weeks. I have been blown away by everything. Of course, another apology to those really suffering with the story so far and I sorry for your loss. But - this Chapter is dedicated to the birthday boy of the day (even if he is 6 feet under) as he had returned to us in the form of this short and sweet letter.

Happy Birthday Draco Malfoy!


	29. Chapter 29

Research had always been something that she could fall back on - something that had always led her to the right answer. In Hogwarts, she would spend hours in the library, poring over books and articles to get to the conclusion that she needed. She would investigate for hours to ensure that the ending she arrived at was correct. This had also served her well in the war, stuck in a blisteringly cold tent in the middle of nowhere, trying desperately to find answers to the questions that seemed impossible. The boys had tried to help, but they had never been able to key into her pattern of research, her meticulous work ethic driving Ron crazy and losing Harry along the way.

Hermione found it the same now, as she sat on the floor of her bedroom staring at the wall in front of her. 

The morning sun was rising through the windows, casting an eerie light over the floor where she sat and illuminating her dishevelled appearance. Parchment was strewn all over, some piled or folded and others screwed and thrown in random directions. In between parchment lay mugs, so many mugs that Hermione knew she would kick at least three over if she were to stand up at this moment. If she hadn’t been so preoccupied, she would start to wonder how Harry was even making tea anymore without any mugs to house it. But she was too focussed on the wall right now - the wall the others hated.

There was a knock at the door but it didn’t open; it was locked.

‘Hermione,’ Harry called from outside and waited for her to answer. But she didn’t answer, just sat perfectly still on the floor, hoping that he would think she was still asleep.

‘I know you are awake. You didn’t sleep at all - I heard you pacing all night.’

‘What?’ she sighed.

‘Erm - post is here.’ he said. Through the tone of his voice it was clear that Harry did not like talking to the door.

‘I will get it when I come down.’ Hermione said quickly, not really wanting to be distracted.

‘Hermione,’ he continued. ‘I think it’s your results.’

She sighed, hanging her head. Maybe this was something to be distracted by. She had been waiting for her NEWT results to come so that she could finally apply for some of the job offers that had been flying in to her. Hermione had been desperate to get into the Ministry on official business; hating the slow speed of the current investigations and wanting to understand why it had been held up. The boys had tried to talk her down, and attempted to convince her that investigations were difficult.

‘Hermione, you don’t understand,’ Harry had said, obviously frustrated.

‘Don’t I, Harry? The Order are under the impression that someone in the Ministry is working against us and now the investigation has effectively gone dry,’ she had shot at him, throwing her hands in the air.

‘Kingsley says we have to work on other open cases, Hermione. There are other things going on and you know it!’ Harry said back at her. 

‘What about me? What about Draco?’ she asked them.

‘Draco is gone, Hermione,’ Ron has muttered from his seat on the sofa.

‘I know!’ she screamed at the both of them. ‘But that doesn’t mean his case isn’t worth it. Someone let Greyback get at him - why is that not important? What happens when the next Order member gets taken.’

‘Greyback is in Azkaban!’ he pushed at her.

‘What about all the other DE’s wandering around this country?’

They had fallen silent at her words and she knew she had got to them. Of course, her best friends, who had once done anything to break the rules and convince her to join them were now as straight as they could be - apart from the fact that they were sleeping in the same bed. She was still trying to convince them to push the investigation.

Hermione slowly stood, tearing her eyes away from the wall and carefully stepping over the mugs littering the floorboard. She opened the door and slipped out, pushing Harry slightly so he could not see inside. She had learnt early on to try to keep them away from her research, they did not appreciate it and she did not want to fight with them about it. Of course, he tried to look past her and only frowned about the amount of cups he could see.

‘You know - I didn’t think it would be me saying this to you,’ he smiled ‘but can you please bring some of those mugs down. I am going to have to buy more soon and I like the ones I have.’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said irritably. ‘Where is it?’

‘Downstairs.’

As she entered the kitchen, Ron handed her a cup of coffee and smiled before heading back up the stairs, probably to take a shower, and she sipped at the hot liquid before her eyes fell on the official looking letter that lay on the wood stain. It was just another letter, she told herself, another letter that would change her life and define her in a way that so many others have.

‘Are you going to open it, or just stand there staring?’ Harry laughed at her.

She sighed and rolled her eyes at him. Of course, she knew he was only joking, trying to get her to see the light side of the situation. But she had been this nervous when McGonagall had handed her her first Hogwarts letter, had felt the same pit in her stomach when her OWLs had arrived and, more recently, her letter from Draco had made her sweat just as much as she was in this moment. Fingering the envelope, the rough pattern on the heavy parchment, made her think of his letter to her on the day of her graduation, made her think of the wall upstairs in her bedroom.

‘Hermione, you can’t make change if the envelope is still closed,’ he said, placing his hand on her shoulder.

That was all it took for her to rip open the paper and scan her eyes over the introductory letter. She threw it to the table, not really caring for the advice from the ministry, and looked over the second piece, breathing slowly as she took in her results.

Ancient Runes O

Arithmancy  O

Charms  O

Defence Against the Dark Arts  O

Herbology  O

Transfiguration  O

Potions  O

‘Well, congratulations are in order I think,’ Harry said over her shoulder, peering down her results.

‘I guess,’ she said, throwing the parchment on the table and turning to walk away. She wanted to accept his congratulations, to throw herself at him and scream like they had done years before. She so wanted to feel like the young and carefree girl who had opened her OWL’s at the Burrow and run to them to share the news. To feel the light hearted nature of their pre-war conversations. But she couldn’t. Seeing the letters before her had made her feel empty, as if they meant nothing to her.

‘Hermione…’ Harry said, his hand tightening on her shoulder to stop her, but she shrugged him off and made her way to the door. ‘Hermione!’ he said again, his tone compelling her to stop. 

She turned to face him and could see his face full of hurt.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her gently.

‘They don’t mean anything, Harry. They are just letters on a page.’

‘What are you talking about?’ he inched towards her, but she stepped back again. ‘This means you can get the job you want, start to make the changes you set out so long ago. Think about...House Elf Liberation and….Werewolves and…’

She could see he was pleading with her, but something in her just couldn’t relate to him. She felt dead, as if nothing could make her see their pain anymore.

‘And then I will spend the rest of my life in that job. Fighting for something that the old coots down in the chambers rooms will never care for or vote for? What’s the point? That place is poison, Harry!’

He looked like he wanted to tear his hair out as he looked at her. ‘What happened to you?’ he said to her. Before she could reply, they heard a shout from upstairs.

‘What the fuck!’ came Ron’s voice.

Hermione’s heart dropped. Her bedroom. She turned on Harry and took the stairs two at a time, reaching the landing to see her door wide open. Tearing in there, Ron stood in front of the wall, his mouth open. He looked at her with wide eyes, almost unable to speak.

‘What are you doing in my room?’ Hermione asked with gritted teeth, feeling her fury rise within her as the shame and embarrassment of being found out flooded her brain.

‘What the fuck is this?’ he pointed at the wall, his arm shaking as Harry walked into the room, staring openly and taking it all in. She didn’t want to look either of them in the eye, knowing that this might be the lowest moment of her life so far. 

The wall was covered in images, newspaper clippings, research and her own writings; anything she could get her hands on that would help explain the case. It was all mapped out in order of occurrence detailing her own findings and the understandings of others. She could see the boy's eyes reading hungrily, trying to decipher it’s meanings and what she had found.

‘Hermione, what is this?’ Ron repeated, his voice almost broken with defeat when he looked to the left of the wall.

There were photographs of all the Auror’s that worked in the Ministry, some crossed with red ink, some still moving in their bordered images - a list of suspects. She had drawn it up almost immediately after arriving back here months ago, determined to follow Draco’s advice.

‘What does it look like?’

‘It looks like you have gone crazy!’ Ron shouted at her. ‘Is this what you have been doing in here? Is this why you won’t let us in anymore?'

‘Ron - calm down…’ she heard Harry say, but Hermione knew he was probably just as incensed as he was. 

‘No Harry! Hermione - this is fucked up!’ he shouted again, running his hands through his hair. ‘I get that you are...grieving….but this is….this is….’

‘What Ron? What is it?’ she screamed back.

‘This is insanity!’

‘Don’t you think I know that?’ she asked him, her voice barely more than a whisper.

There was silence as the three of them looked at each other, Hermione sometimes looking towards the wall and feeling the guilt of the situation fall over her again and again. She had thought that about herself a few times over the last few weeks - was she insane? What was her obsession with this case going to cost her? With her words, Ron seemed to have lost all his venom and collapsed to sit on the bed and Harry moved to rest his back against the wall, running his own hands down his face. 

‘Do you not think I know how this looks?’ she asked them. ‘I get that this is madness,’ she gestured to the wall. ‘But how else am I supposed to deal with this? How else am I supposed to solve this?’

‘It’s not yours to solve!’ Harry looked at her, she had never really seen this amount of disappointment in his eyes before. ‘It’s the DMLE’s job!’

‘And how is that going?’ she asked, acid in her voice as she spoke.

‘You know that’s not fair! If we have been taken for other cases we have to do our job.’

‘And who took you for those cases?’ Hermione asked, her eyebrows shooting up into her hairline.

‘Kingsley….’ Harry trailed off, lost to what she was trying to imply.

‘Hermione, is that why his picture is at the top of this list?’ Ron asked in a slow voice. She didn’t answer, just hung her head, almost ashamed of the thought that she had not voiced yet.

‘You can’t honestly believe that?’ Harry asked her.

‘I don’t know what to believe anymore! First Greyback and then Pansy and then a traitor?’

‘Greyback is in Azkaban. Pansy was cleared - there was literally no evidence to suggest she was involved in the attempts on your life or Draco’s death. And as for the traitor...Hermione we...we...Dawlish could have just had a bad hunch.’

‘Do you not trust him?’ Hermione asked.

‘Of course I do! Other than Ron he is the person I trust most in that department!’ Harry said, looking at her seriously. ‘But - there is nothing else we can do. I am sorry but you are going to have to be patient.’

‘I don’t think she has that in her anymore,’ Ron sighed as he stood and walked back over to her. ‘Hermione, I really think you should speak to someone.’ He wasn’t meeting her eye as he said this, it was disconcerting.

‘Speak to someone?’ she asked, confused as he laid both hands on her shoulders.

‘Like - speak to someone about your feelings. Obviously you don’t feel like you can talk to us about this - and that’s okay - but I really don’t think this is healthy.’

Hermione wanted to be angry with him, wanted to scream and swear and lose control at him over what he had said. But something, somewhere, told her he was right.

‘Who?’ she asked, almost defeated.

‘Narcissa!’ Harry said behind them. The two of them swung around to look at him incredulously and he just shrugged and walked out of the bedroom.

As she stood there, staring up at the overly large Manor House, she was filled with dread. The air was still, the sky cloudless and she was sure she should be able to hear the pretty songs of birds in the background, but everything about her was grey and lifeless. Taking a step towards the gates, she shivered and froze again, the funeral toppling onto her like a crumbling building.

  
  
  


_ Standing in front of the great iron gates, she swallowed hard and tried to suppress the panic that had risen inside her. The gravel under her feet made her unsteady as she stood, her heels sinking into the small stones, her muscles trying to fight to keep her upright.  _

_ Hermione chewed the inside of her cheek, breathing fast shivering in the slight wind that had picked up. She did not want to be here. She had never wanted to return to this dreadful house in any capacity. And now, here she stood, dressed all in black and knowing she would have to spend the next few hours surrounded by people crying for him. It was unbearable. _

_ ‘I’m not ready either!’ came a voice from her left and she looked over to see Theo standing there. He was dressed head to foot in dark charcoal robes, his dark hair pushed back off his face and his skin shockingly pale. Her chest tightened as she took his hand in hers and led the way down the path towards Malfoy Manor. _

_ ‘I haven’t been here since I escaped,’ he said as they walked. ‘You know, the night Draco got his….mark.’ _

_ ‘I haven’t been here since the night Draco rescued us.’ _

_ ‘I guess we both have a lot of awful memories to visit today,’ he let out a low chuckle, but his heart didn’t really seem in it. _

_ ‘Memories?’ Blaise said, as he stepped out of the large front door behind them. ‘If you don’t want them, then do not go in there.’ _

_ He gestured to the entrance hall of the Manor and Hermione tried to smile. Shaking off the comments, the three of them made their way up the steps and into the room that Hermione was familiar with, the room they had dragged them through. It was lavish, all marble and dark wood and a high ceiling that the Queen would envy. It was empty of people, but Hermione could see further on, an open door to the garden and a few black draped people milling around. She headed off towards them, trying to suppress the need to look to her right. Of course, she failed miserably and found her head turning to look at the great black doors, knowing what lay beyond it. The boys pushed her on, and before long, she was in the garden surrounded by other mourners. _

_ Hermione had always hated that term, mourners. The weeks after the final battle, the papers had been filled with images of people they called mourners, wearing monochrome and crying. As if that was their job. It was now their goal in life to cry over those that had gone before them and to always remember the lives they had led. It had made her sick, that even though everything they had fought for had been won, everyone was still so caught up in the loss. It had affected everyone differently, but Hermione felt so much disdain that it had scared her. _

_ Now, the mourners were of a different breed. Yes, there were a lot of students there and people from the Order. Auror’s had also been sent from the Ministry to keep guard over the residence as Harry had mentioned that there might have been some backlash. But there were many people here that Hermione were sure looked down their noses at her. Pureblood wizards, many of whom had probably been in support of Voldemort, had turned out to say their final goodbyes to the Malfoy heir and all the promise he held for Pureblood Traditions in the new magical world. _

_ ‘Ah, Miss Granger,’ Narcissa Malfoy had said when she had seen her. _

_ Unlike at the Ministry that night, Narcissa was splendidly dressed with beautiful hair and make-up to match her black velvet outfit. Her face, however, did show the lines of age - lines that seemed to have appeared since the death of her son. Hermione could also make out the dark circles under her eyes and the way her hands had a slight shake to them. She smiled at Mrs Malfoy and accepted the handshake she was offered. _

_ ‘I am so glad you were able to attend today,’ Narcissa said in a smooth and even voice. _

_ ‘I wouldn’t have missed it for anything,’ Hermione muttered and, again, tried to smile but was sure that it only came out as a grimace.  _

_ ‘Theo! Blaise!’ Narcissa said, a real smile on her face as the boys came to stand by her. ‘How wonderful to see you, I hope you are both keeping well.’ _

_ ‘As well as we can Mrs Malfoy,’ Blaise said with a slight nod. ‘Is there anything you would like us to help with?’ he asked her. If Hermione had not been at a funeral she might have laughed at the way Blaise was offering help, knowing that he hated to do anything for others usually. Hermione stopped her brain from talking at her, knowing that thought was cruel - but she didn’t particularly feel very social on this day. _

_ ‘Theo - you are quiet.’ Narcissa stated and Hermione looked at the darker boy again. She could see the tears already in his eyes and wanted to hold his hand again, but he seemed to shrug it off. _

_ ‘Just...memories.’ he said, before stalking in the opposite direction. _

_ Just as Hermione had predicted, the ceremony was awful. It didn’t have anything to do with the location; the grounds of Malfoy Manor were in full bloom, the roses and peonies that lined all the walkways and gardens were exquisite. It didn’t have anything to do with the words being said; they were wonderful and the people that spoke, spoke of a person that was brave and true. The issue was the person they spoke about and Hermione spent most of the time, her hand squeezed into Harry and Theo’s as she tried to count the things she could see, hear, smell, taste...anything to take her mind of what was really happening. _

_ It was about halfway through when Theo lost it completely, his sobs coming unabashed and uncontrollable. She looked nervously to Harry and Ron, hoping that they would not judge her Slytherin friend, but they just smiled and offered up tissues. Blaise spent the majority of the time trying to console his friend, while he too had silent tears running down his face.  _

_ It was strange, Hermione had spent so much of the last two weeks crying that she was so sure the tears would have resurfaced today. But she sat there, feeling empty and lost as people all around her lost their composure. Looking around, however, she realised she was not the only one. Narcissa Malfoy, sitting in the front row and overlooking the procedure, sat upright, her eyes as dry as Hermione’s.  _

_ To anyone else, she may have looked heartless. Hell, Hermione from last year would have thought that. This was a woman they had seen sit through a Quidditch World Cup without a word, had watched Hermione be tortured without flinching and had sat through her own husbands and sons trials without a hint of doubt or fear. She could have been seen as a machine, a pureblood matriarch whose job it was to stay strong. But, Hermione had seen her that night in the Ministry - the night where her own future had been lost - and she knew that, just like her, Mrs Malfoy was all cried out. _

_ Hermione did not want to stay long when everything had ended. Most of the guests had already started to make their way back inside the Manor for refreshments. Hermione thought, somewhat bitterly, about the business deals that would be made today, about the stories that people would swap. Maybe, if she was able to enter that house, she would find out about Draco’s childhood, maybe she would wander and find his bedroom. But she couldn’t go back in there - not today, maybe not ever.  _

_ She walked towards the Malfoy Mausoleum, the marble building that shot out of the ground in front of the small array of chairs that flooded the gardens. It made her feel sick, to know that he would be in there forever, lost in the abyss of white marble and pureblood names.  _

_ Her shoulders shook as she walked through the entrance way, the temperature drop was obvious, and the darkness that filled the room was terrifying. The names that lined the walls; Armand Malfoy, Nicholas Malfoy, Septimus Malfoy, Typhon Malfoy, Abraxas Malfoy. The names of the oldest wizarding family, left behind here in the white fortress. They all led to the final name she had come to look upon - Draco Lucius Malfoy. His plaque was already hung, the words already etched in front of her; ‘Bravery is always moving forward.’ _

  
  
  


She knocked on the door and only had to wait minutes before she was confronted with a small house-elf. 

‘Yes, Miss?’ the small creature asked her, and a vision of her younger self came before her to remonstrate her to feeding into the enslavement of elves - before she noticed the beautiful dress the small thing was wearing.

‘I was wondering if Mrs Malfoy was available,’ Hermione said, her voice shaking.

‘Please come in Miss and I will ask if she will receive you. Your name is….’

‘Miss Granger,’ she heard Narcissa say smoothly. ‘Thank you Tilly. I will receive Miss Granger. If you could be so kind as to take some tea to the Sunroom.’

The house-elf, Tilly, stepped aside and Hermione, for the third time in her life, walked through the front door of Malfoy Manor. And there stood the lady of the house, wearing robes of light blue and standing tall - taller than the previous two times she had seen her. Hermione almost smiled as she realised that Narcissa looked well, the dark circles from before had gone.

‘Miss Granger,’ Narcissa said as she stepped forward and shook her hand. ‘What a pleasure. Please, this way.’

Hermione followed the older woman through the hall. Her head, once again, turned to the right as if she were drawn to the black doors that were positioned there. It would seem that Mrs Malfoy did not seem to notice the fascination that Hermione had with this area of the house and led her further. From what Hermione could see, the place was a Labyrinth. Corridors followed corridors, halls into passageways, rooms into rooms. Hermione wondered how they did not get lost every day looking for the kitchen - but they supposed that they would not need to go there with house-elves like Tilly. Then she sighed - there was not a they here. Just her. 

When they finally stopped, they had come into a room with so many windows that Hermione felt as if she were sitting in a greenhouse. They sat in silence and Mrs Malfoy served the tea, Hermione noticing that she used honey rather than sugar.

‘So...Miss Granger,’ Narcissa smiled at her. Hermione noticed it did not seem forced at all. ‘To what do I owe this surprise visit.’

Hermione paused before she had even started to answer. She hadn’t expected to be asked such a difficult question so soon, so she tried to deflect.

‘My NEWT results arrived this morning,’ Hermione smiled, looking down to her hands clasped firmly over her knee, not daring to reach forward to pick her tea for fear that the woman opposite her would see her shaking.

‘I am sure you did. And were they favourable?’

‘As I had hoped,’ Hermione answered, but she did not smile.

‘I hope you do not mind me saying so Miss Granger, but you don’t seem awfully pleased about that.’

‘It had felt somewhat anit-climactic.’

The two women fell into silence as Narcisaa brought her tea to her lips and drank. Hermione used this opportunity to take a look around the room. It was full of antique furniture and heirlooms adorned the walls, along with beautiful paintings that blinked and smiled, but did not move as much as the portraits at Hogwarts. Her eyes found him immediately, the pale blonde boy of the past, where he sat in a high backed, winged chair, facing the artist.

‘Ah, that one is a lovely image of him. Captured him perfectly did they not?’ 

Hermione swung her head back around to see Narcissa watching her carefully. She nodded with a small smile and turned back to stare at him, hungry for more.

‘He must have been young when that was painted,’ Hermione offered, feeling her heart sink the longer she looked.

‘Oh yes, he was 11. That was painted the summer before he left for Hogwarts. He was so excited - as I am sure you were. But - he hated sitting for it. I had to drag him out of his bedroom that morning where he sat packing and unpacking his trunk. He complained the whole time.’ she let out a short laugh. Hermione thought it was nice to see his memories through her. 

‘Do you have any later portraits?’ Hermione asked, suddenly eager to see a face she recognised. Younger Draco was lovely to see, but it was not hers - this was the Draco that belonged to his father. Mrs Malfoy’s face fell.

‘Unfortunately, this is the last portrait I have of Draco that he sat for. As I am sure you can appreciate, time was not on our side the older my son got. I am hoping to use some memories of his later life to have a new one commission. Of course, I would love for you to see it when it is finished.’

‘Me?’ Hermione asked, feeling shocked.

‘Of course, all those that Draco...held dear...will be invited to see it.’

And again, they fell into a silence that Hermione found almost comfortable. This time, she reached for her own tea and let the warm, sweet tea slide down into her belly. It had a slight hint of lemon and Hermione thought suddenly how much Harry would appreciate it. 

‘How are you Mrs Malfoy?’ Hermione asked suddenly, compelled to see if she was the only one feeling lost and alone. Narcissa looked at her for a long time, her eyes soft, taking in the girl sitting opposite.

‘How are you Hermione?’ she asked after a long pause.

‘I don’t know,’ Hermione shook her head and turned her eyes to her teacup. ‘Everyday is different.’

‘And today?’ 

‘Today is the day I got my NEWTs.’ she stated and she heard Narcissa sigh.

‘I received Draco’s as well today,’ Narcissa said in a small voice and Hermione shot her head up to look at the woman. She was holding the parchment in her hand and Hermione wondered when she had pulled it out. ‘Of course, I was not shocked. I knew they would be coming.’

‘And?’ Hermione asked, her throat tight as she could not move her vision from the parchment.

‘Please.’ Narcissa said, handing the parchment over.

With greedy eyes Hermione read the front letter, pausing only to look upon his name over and over again. As if, it were him. And there it was - the grades listed.

Ancient Runes O

Arithmancy  O

Charms  O

Defence Against the Dark Arts  O

Herbology  O

Transfiguration  O

Potions  O

‘The same as me,’ Hermione sighed.

‘And does that mean anything to you?’ Narcissa asked. Hermione wondered the same thing. Did it mean anything?

‘No!’ Hermione laughed, looking up at his mother and sighing. ‘Why would it?’

It was then, in that moment of seeing his grades and realising that it did not mean anything, that it broke her. She did not cry, but dropped her head into her hands and rubbed the heel of her hands into her eyes.

‘Miss Granger, can I ask you why it does not mean anything?’ Mrs Malfoy asked.

‘Because he cannot use those grades. He will never be able to get a job with those grades or throw them in someone else’s faces. But he will be defined by them as he is defined by his bravery in his final acts.’ she said bitterly, looking at Narcissa with sadness. The woman sighed.

‘I know exactly how you feel.’

It was unexpected, to hear her say it and it shocked Hermione into a calm sense of self. 

‘I have had the same thoughts since I received a floo call to come into the Ministry. The same feelings as you do right now as I walked past you in that corridor.’

‘And how do you live with those. I am going to have to be honest here Mrs Malfoy, I have an empty feeling inside me that is eating me alive.’

‘Hermione, my dear, if you did not have that feeling I would say that you were not human,’ Narcissa smiled. ‘I am now going to assume that this was the point of your visit.’ Hermione gave her a small nod. ‘Well, Hermione - you are not broken. You are just dealing with something that seems beyond our comprehension at this moment.’

‘I just…’ Hermione started. ‘I just want to know… He was so difficult to understand and now...’

‘I understand Miss Granger. Draco was incredibly private - especially from me. I know that this may seem awfully late - but I must offer you apologies for anything that was committed under my roof.’ She swallowed hard and continued. ‘Of course, when Draco came to me at Christmas and refused to marry I knew someone must have got under his skin and then - the Prophet came out and I was...shocked that he had kept that from me. I do appreciate why - but I would like you to know that despite my husband's views...I have always seen that you were not what we had been raised to believe about muggle-borns.’

‘Well thank you Mrs Malfoy…’ Hermione started, but Narcissa coughed and continued to speak.

‘And, there was the matter of having to listen to Draco speak about you almost every summer he came home.’ she laughed. ‘He was almost insufferable.’

‘What do you mean?’ Hermione asked, furrowing her eyebrows at the suggestion. But Mrs Malfoy just smiled at her and rose from her seat.

‘I think that you should follow me.’

Feeling numb, she rose and followed the woman back through the corridors and soon enough, they reached the entrance hall again. Hermione, who by this point, was completely confused was now worried that she was being asked to leave, or worse, being taken through the black doors. But she turned suddenly and started to climb the staircase that lay opposite the front door and before she knew it, Hermione was found following Mrs Malfoy through a hallway lined with portraits of the Malfoy ancestors sneering down at her.

‘Here we are Miss Granger,’ Narcissa said when she stopped outside of a seemingly inconspicuous door. She pushed it open and Hermione followed her in and within three steps she knew exactly where she was.

The room was huge, far bigger than any of the rooms at Grimmauld Place, and was decorated in a palette of grey. A huge bed stood at one end; a four poster with green silk sheets and a box placed on the end. There was a large desk in one corner, and this was where it was most obvious, but there was a Slytherin scarf and a pile of books from previous years of Hogwarts. They were standing in Draco’s bedroom.

‘I will leave you to it Miss Granger,’ Narcissa smiled and began to walk out.

‘Leave me to what?’ Hermione asked, unsure of why she would be here, left here to rummage through the room of a boy who had not stepped foot in it since before the Battle of Hogwarts.

‘The box Miss Granger.’ and with those words she left and closed the door behind her.

The room felt strange as if she were standing in a grave. The box was calling to her across the room, but she did not want to give up the time she had on that just yet. She wandered, instead to the desk. It was littered with letters and notes, books and newspaper clippings. It was almost frozen in time. Hermione looked over some of the notes, not really caring what was written, she just wanted to see his handwriting saying something different than the letter she already had. The photos showed moments of his life she had not seen before - Draco riding a broom in some well mown paddock, Theo and Blaise at a picnic in Malfoy Manor, Draco with Crabbe and Goyle in the Slytherin Common Room. The older Draco was in the images, the more stoic his face became.

Hermione turned slowly, now looking towards the bed, where the box was sitting. It was almost screaming for her and so she knew she had to open it. She picked up the box, moving it to sit down and place it on her lap. The box was made of a deep red wood. She lifted the lid and her heart stopped with what she saw. The first thing, laying near the brim of the box, was a jacket. It was blue in colour and as she pulled it out, she noticed it was drenched in blood. Before she looked she knew that the left sleeve was ripped beyond repair, that was why she had thrown it out at Shell Cottage. She had wanted to burn it, but Fleur had taken it from her before she could ask - she was certain she would never see it again and had not wanted to. Why did Draco have the jacket she wore the night she they were brought to the Manor?

Swallowing, she set it aside and was met with a pile of newspaper clippings. The titles and dates were all from the war; ‘Has Undesirable No.1 been spotted?’, ‘Where could Potter be?’ , ‘Which Traitors should you be on the look-out for’. The clippings were covered with ink, notes written in Draco’s own hand and circles surrounding names; Potter, Weasley, Granger, Order. Why had he kept these?

Under those, which took some digging, there was a single photograph. It had been taken at Shell Cottage a few nights before they left to go to Gringotts. The older members of the Order had forced them all to stand for the photograph, insisting that the old Order had done it, so they would too. She watched the figures moving, smiling, waving occasionally. Her own eyes somewhat hollow as she looked back at herself, Hermione remembering the feeling of dread at the coming days and how tired she was. Harry and Ron were flanking her, Harry’s jaw was tense and Ron had his hand on his shoulder. The whole thing was odd, as if they were posing as an army where in reality, they were just a bunch of people who wanted to right the world. She turned the photo over and written on the back in his own loopy cursive was written ‘The Order - 1997. They saved my life!’.

Hermione sighed as she lay the box aside. This was a box of her. A box that reminded him of what he had done and why he had done it. She started to think about what Narcissa had said and how much Draco would speak of her. How much she knew she riled him up in their younger years of intellectual rivalry. 

Hermione went to move everything back into the box, but stopped when something in the corner caught her eye. It was round and silver, thrust into the corner and standing on its edge. It could have been a small coin but something told her it was important. Everything in this box had a reason for being there, not that she would ever know the reason, but it made her move to pick it up. Turning it over in her hand, she froze and bile rose up in her throat. Squeezing her hand around it, her other hand came up to cover her mouth as she wretched, trying to get air into her lungs.

H er head was screaming at her, she was dizzy and wanted to scream. Lifting herself off the silk duvet, she opened her hand again looking into the silver circle that burnt her. It was a pendant.

The pendant was encrusted with green jewels that seemed to shine and was engraved with a letter - the letter P.

* * *

Notes - So hey everyone. I have had a spout of writing again and so another chapter has come to you. I know those of you deep in the mystery are going to hate me for adding another layer to it...but honestly I just could not resist. We are actually drawing quite close to a climax here and I am so nervous and excited to share this with you. I hope you are all still enjoying it as much as you were at the beginning and please keep your Kudos and your comments coming - they make my day. XxX


	30. Chapter 30

_ 5 things I can see; everything is blurred, tears, are those my fists, hair plastered to my face by tears, the pendant. _

Her lungs were on fire, her hands clawing at her chest as she fought to breathe through the panic that had overcome her and brought her to her knees in the middle of the oversized bedroom.

_ 4 things I can touch; tears on my cheeks, nail imprints on my hands, why is this carpet so soft, the pendant. _

She was shaking, the anger that flowed through her was unlike anything she had felt. It was fear and loss and betrayal rolled into the pounding of flesh and the chill of death under her fingers.

_ 3 things I can hear; the blood in my ears, the pounding of my heart, is it me making that horrific sound. _

Her hands were wet; wet with tears that she tried desperately to stem the flow of, the slight trickle of blood that had escaped when she had gripped the pendant so fiercely that her nails had punctured the surface. It was dripping, spotting on the cream carpet. Just another room of the Manor tainted with her blood.

_ 2 things I can smell; him, all I smell is him, why is it him. _

Her lungs opened to allow for air, her sobbing slowing down, her palms flat in front of her, more blood brushed onto the fibres. She lifted her head, it pounded, she was dizzy. Hermione felt like she had been hit with a hammer.

_ 1 thing I can taste; I can’t. There is nothing. I wish I could taste him. I can’t.  _

Her mind stopped screaming, her chest no longer felt tight. Her mine got to work. It tried to rationalise the discovery, tried to find a reason for why he had the piece of silver, why he had lied, why he had hidden it. It was cruel, she thought, that it was only now that he was gone that she was able to see the holes in their relationship, all the things they had kept from each other. The secrets and lies that shrouded everything they had shared, tainting all the memories she had of it. She knew it had been real, could not pretend that what she had felt was nothing, wanted desperately to believe that he had felt it too. But faced with the jewellery, what conclusion could she come to? Why would he want to protect someone who was so intent on harming them both?

Her!

She ran. 

Something inside her snapped, snapped so hard that she did not wait around to pack the box. Did not hesitate for long enough to clean the blood off the carpet. Did not pause to neaten the duvet she had mussed. Did not take one last fleeting look at the room she had collapsed to the floor in, to wipe her eyes over his handwriting once more, to pick an item of clothing that she could wrap herself in as she slept. Just ran.The lungs that had recovered from the burn of her panic, now burnt with the effort to push her body forward. One foot after the other, pounding against dark hardwood and ancient marble, the echoes following her as she rounded corner after corner. She lost her footing several times, falling against panelled walls, small sobs escaping her lips as she pushed back off, desperate to find her way out of the maze.

Her heart was pounding against her chest, her throat raw from the breath that she dragged in but she could not find it in her to stop until she reached the entrance hall. She hoped that Narcissa would not find her here, hunched over with her hands braced on her knees, face full of anger, fear and loss. Her eyes darted from marble, to statues, to the black doors searching for an escape route.

She paused - her breath held.

Where could she go? Who could she take the pendant to? Right now, Harry and Ron were sitting at Grimmauld Place, waiting for her to come back from her visit. They would want to talk to her about her feelings and about how the investigation could not take them any further. She clenched her jaw, picturing the pity in her face when she shoved the silver circle at them - the way they would tell her they told her so, how she had wanted them to trust him, how she was a stupid girl who followed all the wrong signs. Even worse, a fear hidden deep within her told her that would not believe her still, that they would not want to find the girl. But wasn’t this the curved line that Draco had hinted to in his letter? This had to lead somewhere and she had to get to someone who knew the both of them, knew them as they were before Hermione had fallen into the picture.

Her eyes fell on the fireplace on the opposite wall. She didn’t know how well it would be connected; after the trials everything had changed with floo connections and she had no idea how much the Malfoy’s had been allowed to keep. But, despite not knowing, she felt her feet moving forward and saw her own hand reaching for the pot on the mantle. Her fingers sunk into the black material, the fine powder falling through her fingers like water. Falling like the last shreds of her sanity.

She distantly heard a small voice behind her, it could have been the house-elf, it might have been Narcissa, but she could not bear to speak to them. Throwing the powder into the grate and watching the lime green flare amongst the stone and wood she took a deep breath and shouted ‘Nott Manor’.

She spun out, trying to catch herself and landed, none too graciously, on the wooden floor of a vast room. As Hermione looked around, she realised it was empty and silent and a fear flooded through her. She was not a reckless person, every move and counter move she had ever made was thought-out and planned to meticulous details. In the past this hadn’t always meant that they would succeed, but she was able to plan for every eventuality, every mistake that could be made. It was now that she came to a slow realisation that there was no plan. As she stumbled to her feet, she had the overwhelming feeling that she had made a mistake coming here. 

Hermione suddenly heard footsteps, running towards the door on the other side of the room and she pointed her wand. Looking quickly to her wand-tip, she could see the shaking. Any casting that she had to do would be inaccurate and messy. The wooden door swung open and she saw a boy, looking flushed and scared, his wand pointed to her. They stood in a stalemate, both shaking, until there was a rush of breath from the two young mouths.

‘Theo,’ she sighed, dropping her wand to her side, her shoulders hunching over in relief at seeing his face. She watched as he mimicked her and walked slowly into the room, confusion etched into his young face.

‘Hermione - you frightened the life out of me. What are you doing here? Are you okay?’

What was she doing here? Why had she floo’d somewhere she had never been before, in the middle of the afternoon? Was she okay? Hermione tried to imagine the image that Theo had of her in that moment; wild hair, red eyes, puffy face, shaking. Her stature was reflected in the fear in his eyes. She tried to talk, tried to explain herself, but felt her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. 

‘Hermione…’ Theo said slowly, moving towards her. She could see that he was on edge; like he was worried she would break if he pushed too hard. She had seen that look from him after everything, the weekend Ginny, Blaise and him had decided to move into the Heads Dormitory.

‘I came from Malfoy Manor,’ Hermione said, her voice was oddly broken as she told him, the determination she had felt before stepping into the fire had vanished on her journey.

‘Malfoy Manor?’ he repeated, sounding shocked. He stood still for a moment, looking around, his face pensive as he obviously thought about his next words carefully. But there were no words. Theo strode up to her and took her hand in his, pulling her away from the fire and through the room.

‘Where are we going?’ she could feel the panic rising in her throat again as he dragged her through the corridors of this new house.

‘If you have been there - you need a drink!’

He led her through the Manor quickly and quietly, not speaking as they roamed through the corridors. If Hermione had been in the right sort of mood, she would have laughed at how similar this Manor was to the one she had just left. It was all dark wood floor and wood panelled walls, portraits of ugly nosed people lining the walls with disapproving looks of the muggle-born roaming their hallowed halls. Hermione noticed that it was not as grand as the Malfoy estate, seeing through the occasional window they passed, the gates and walls were much closer to the house and the rooms she managed to see were not as expansive. Nevertheless, it took a good 5 minutes to make it to Theo’s apparent destination. 

He pushed open the door on a remarkably different room than she expected. It was a drawing room, softly furnished in creams and greys. The furniture in here did not look like it had been owned for a thousand years, the chairs overstuffed and large. The wood was not dark, did not seem to leak Pureblood notions as it sat there being looked at. Theo seemed to have noticed her reaction to the room and so spoke.

‘I know - it’s different to the rest of the house. It’s the only room the Manor had let me touch so far. It’s my sitting room you see - it used to be my mother’s.’’

Hermione did not answer, just gave a weak smile before letting her face drop again. Theo sighed and walked over to the corner where a large, and unmistakable, drinks cabinet stood. He motioned for her to sit down, so she settled herself into one of the squishy settee’s, perching herself on the edge and taking another chance to look around while Theo poured them drinks.

In every other pureblood home she had been privy to, it hadn’t been unusual to see every sitting and drawing room covered in portraits of old and new inhabitants. Their eyes would always peer at her with disdain, their old teachings forcing them to imply that she was not welcome. Theo’s sitting room, however, had no portraits to speak of. There was art on the wall, great art, art so beautiful that Hermione started to believe that she could have been in the National Gallery. What surprised her was that it all seemed so clearly muggle - none of the images were moving at all. She made a note to ask him about this later, as he settled into the seat next to her and passed her a glass. She turned towards him, pulling a leg to rest on the cushions between them, angling their bodies so it would be easier to talk. 

But they just sat like that without talking, they sat there for at least 5 minutes, drinking and letting their fingers slide over the edges of the glass, as if determined to find something interesting about the curve that it featured. As it always did when she drank, the amber liquid burned. Many things about Hermione had burned today, this was the only satisfying one.

‘Why did you go there?’ Theo finally asked in a small but strong voice.

‘Harry told me to. He thought it might be...good for me.’ Hermione’s brow quirked up as she said it, as if the notion of Harry bossing her around was laughable. Of course, she had done it, so maybe she was laughing at herself.

‘Why would he think it would be good for you, Hermione?’ he asked. 

One thing that she liked about Theo was his instance on questions. In the short time that she had got to know him, she realised that he liked to talk things through. She found him, almost like a teacher would, leading the direction of the conversations they had with questions that made her think. Sometimes, she would ask him a question about something and walk away having answered it herself. It was freeing, talking to him.

‘I have been...they think I….’ but she couldn’t find the words, so sighed and looked back down to her glass before finishing it. With a wave of his wand, Theo had refilled them both.

‘Hermione - I haven’t seen you since graduation and you turn up looking like you are lost. You tell me you have been to Malfoy Manor and that Potter, of all people, told you to go there. Even I haven’t been able to step foot there since the funeral. Why does he think you needed to go there?’

She took a deep breath, feeling everything upon her and rising up through her lungs and to her mouth. Just like the hospital, she found herself spilling everything to him, a waterful of days and experiences falling from her.

‘They think I have gone insane Theo...and maybe I have.’ she sighed. ‘I have spent all this time poring over Draco’s letter and trying to make sense of it. Grabbing case notes when I can, detailing any article about him, trying to place Greyback’s tracks on the map, writing out my own memory of the incidents at school - but I keep hitting a dead end. You should see my bedroom - it looks like a madman lives in there.’

She took a steadying breath, trying to assemble her thoughts back together while they both drank deeply from their glasses. Theo didn’t use the silence to talk, just sat stone faced while she tried to collate.

‘And then the NEWTs came...Oh Theo, I didn’t even ask about yours.’

‘Later,’ he said. ‘Finish what you were saying.’

‘It’s just...I realised that they didn’t really matter because I don’t know what I want anymore. And then the boys found my crazy wall and Ron went mad at me and Harry told me to go to speak to Narcissa. So I did.’

Thinking back over their conversation, there were so many things that stuck out to her. The love of a mother for a son she would never get back, the acceptance of his fate and the fate of those around her, the understanding of the feelings that Draco had for Hermione. She told Theo all of this, detailing everything from her words, to his results, to the faces she made, to the way she led her to Draco’s room.

‘The box was filled with my things Theo - the jacket I had on me when he saved me at the Manor - it was still covered in my filthy blood, photos and news clippings about us on the run and…’

Hermione felt a tear slide down her cheek as she thought about it, moving her hand to her pocket where she had stored it. It could have been burning a hole in her thigh for all she had thought about it over the last half an hour.

‘What Hermione? What else was there?’ 

Theo seemed urgent to get to this last piece of information. But she could not say it. Instead she pulled it from her pocket, feeling the edge of the cold metal against her pal and pushed the offending item into his hand, clenching her fingers around his before pulling away. He turned his hand over, unfurling his fingertips and stared down into his palm, the silver glinting in the low light of the early evening. His eyes shot up to hers filled with something that she had never seen before

‘Is this…?’ he asked, trailing off, unable to say it either. 

‘I had even started to doubt myself. Think that I must have imagined it or the curse that was on it had planted the image in my head.’

‘They said they couldn’t find it,’ Theo stated. Hermione could see the thought process on his face.

‘I told everyone.’ her voice broke as she said it, a small sob escaping as he pulled closer in the seat next to her, placing a soft hand on her knee.

‘Hermione…’

‘Theo,’ she interrupted him. ‘He had it. Draco had this. Why did he....why didn’t he…’

In her frustration, she leapt up and started to pace in front of him as she spoke.

‘If he lied about this Theo, if he did have it all along and didn’t say anything - did he know about it beforehand? How much has he lied about? Did he know she was involved?’

Theo stood from where he was sitting and took both of her hands in his.

‘Hermione, like I have said before; it was hard to know what Draco was thinking. But I know he would not align himself with Pansy.’

‘How else can you explain it?’ she wanted to scream, but he just sighed and hung his head.

‘What are you going to do with the pendant?’

Hermione stopped, past bringing it here to show Theo and trying to get her own head around it, she wasn’t sure what she wanted her next move to be. 

‘Listen...you don’t need to think about it right now. Let me get some food brought up from the kitchens and...have another drink.’

‘Why? How is that going to help Theo?’ she asked him, feeling tired of not moving forward.

‘I know you aren’t going to want it. But it’s going to give you some time - a little bit of thinking space.’

  
  


That was how she found herself, a few hours later, sat on the floor of the sitting room, her back against the settee, warm, full and pleasantly buzzed off of the 80 year old wine that Theo had pulled from his cellar. 

‘When did you meet him?’ Hermione asked softly, turning her head from the cracking fire that his elves had lit when the sun had finally set, to look at him.

‘You know, I actually can’t remember,’ he chuckled. ‘You know us horrible pureblood families - making alliances with our children before they can even walk. I do know my first memory of him…’

‘And?’ Hermione asked.

They had fallen into a conversation about Draco, something that a few hours ago she would not have been in the right mind to do at all. Theo had been right, the time had given her a chance to think. The anger that had coursed through her, the pain and fear had slowly ebbed away - helped, of course, by the alcohol running through her. It was nice, Hermione thought, to be able to talk to someone about him that knew him, someone that had experienced a Draco without bias. Hearing Nacissa talk about the Draco from the portrait had made her yearn to know more, learn something about him that was not overshadowed by a mark on his arm or the memories of the war.

‘He was being chased by those awful Peacocks!’ he laughed.

‘I thought he liked them?’ Hermione asked, laughing along. Theo moved down from his position on the sofa to sit next to her on the floor.

‘Oh yeah - he did. Turns out he taught them how to play chase when he was young. As another only child I am sure you can see the appeal.’

They fell, one more into silence, as she thought about lonely Draco. It was someone that crossed her mind often; a lonely only child, isolated with a house full of evil.

‘You’re an only child too though,’ Hermione argued.

‘Yes, but no matter how much my father hated me…he was never going to buy a bunch of pretentious birds to chase me around the place.’

She watched his face fall as he turned back to the fire. It would seem that this generation of the Sacred Twenty-Eight really did have a lot of daddy issues.

‘It’s a shame,’ Hermione almost whispered. When Theo questioned with a look she pushed on. ‘A shame that your father felt that way about you. You are a good person Theo, a better one than a lot of people I have met. I just wish you had been able to show him.’

‘You know…’ Theo sighed, looking at her as if he wanted to fill her with some piece of wisdom he was hiding. But he shook his head ‘No...nevermind.’

‘Please…’ she said, placing her hand on his arm. ‘Tell me.’

‘No matter what you think about that pendant - or what you find out after you leave here. I wanted you to know that...I have never seen Draco look at anyone the way he looked at you.’

‘Really?’ she asked. It was not that she didn’t believe him, just that she wanted so badly to hear him say more. Affection had been thin on the ground. 

‘Yes really. His eyes would light up the moment you walked into a room - even before everything happened. Like Mrs Malfoy said, like the box showed you...you had been on his mind a while. Even if his little pureblood mind hated him for it.’

Hermione smiled at him, leaning her shoulder over to bump into him. She felt Theo sigh against her.

‘I get it though,’ he smiled at her again. She had never realised how much he smiled, how much it made his heart shaped face light up.

‘What do you get?’ she asked, rolling her eyes at him.

‘Hermione - I get why he looked at you the way he did. You are beautiful.’

It happened in slow motion. The way Theo looked in her eyes for a little longer than he should have. The small sigh that he made when she didn’t look away. How Hermione’s eyes flickered from the impossible green to the soft part of his pink lips and back. The way she swallowed, hard, trying not to stop the blush that crept across her skin. The hum in both of them as the finished bottles of wine clankered around at the back of their minds. From then, there was no hesitation but the small crease in his forehead, questioning everything that had come before them and drawing the line for everything that would happen next.

When their lips met, it was fire. Hot and burning. Hermione had a fleeting thought that she had had enough fire for the day, but everything about the way he set her nerves on edge told her differently. He started slow, as if he could pull and walk away at any second and Hermione decided that she couldn’t let him. This fire, the one he had ignited within her was so different from the one at Malfoy Manor - it was something she hadn’t felt for so long. Something she had resigned herself to never feeling again so she chased it, pushing herself against him, her tongue darting out and meeting his. 

His hands were on her in seconds, tugging, pulling, shifting - anything to get her to move closer, to feel more. The noises she made when he broke the kiss, his hands swifty lifted her shirt over her head, reattaching his lips to the soft skin along her collarbone, were almost embarrassing. He panted along her skin, leaving a soft trail of unmarked kisses, the only reminder would be the memories of his movement. She tried to match his pace, fiddling her own fingertips with his buttons, trying to get them off but failing. She gave a frustrated groan and he chuckled against her skin, lifting his head to meet her eyes as he lifted it, removing it for her. 

They were panting, looking at each other in silence - the momentary break in motion scared her. Worried that it would all stop, that the embers within her would return to ash, she tried to reach for him. But he stood and a moan escaped her as she lived the fear of it being over. But he reached for her, tugging her up from the floor and leading her through a door to their left - the door to an ornately fashioned bedroom. 

If her heart had been beating fast before, it was nothing to the way it felt as he closed the door behind her and pushed her up against it. The wood at her back felt steady, supporting her as she reached her hands to fumble with his belt buckle and fly, pushing the trousers down and cupping his already hard member. He groaned into her mouth as he sucked on her bottom lip, nibbling at the swollen flesh there and ripping at her own jeans. It was faster than she had ever felt before, the movements, the undressing, being pushed onto the bed and her underwear ripped from her. Maybe he thought if they stopped for any longer than a second, he would lose his nerve - she knew the feeling. 

His fingers found her centre as he crawled over her and she mewled against his shoulder as her nostrils were enveloped in his scent; sweet and musky. She tried not to be distracted by the way in which he smelt different, how different his fingers inside her felt as he pushed against that impossible bundle of nerves. She slid her hand down, pulling him out of his briefs, grabbing him and running a thumb over the head that was already wet. He groaned as he pushed into her hand.

‘Please...please…’ she started to whisper, knowing that if she waited much longer she would fall apart, and not in the act of being overcome.

There was no waiting as he settled between her legs, no looks of reassurance between either of them, no oversensitive touches as he glided himself over her clit and then sunk into her impossibly fast. She was sure that if he had stopped at that moment, she would have wanted to compare them; the way that he was so much wider than the other boy, how he wasn’t angled to suit her just as she was used to. But he did not stop, he pulled right back out and slammed into her impossibly hard, causing her to cry out in pleasure.

They rode each other; kissing and biting and clawing as if racing to win something that they had not even seen before. He made impossible noises above her, refraining from burrowing into the crook of her neck. She wrapped her legs around his body, trying not to look into his eyes but rather down, at the place where they were joined.

And as quickly as he had pushed her up against the door, as quickly as he had driven into her with abandon, they were both screaming and calling out against each other in release. But unlike her every other experience of this, he did not climb forward to embrace her or tumble on top of her to whisper in her ear about the ways in which he felt. Instead he stayed inside her for a mere half minute before pulling himself out with a groan and settling himself to sit on the end of the bed, his back to her, his head in his hands.The room was filled with nothing but breathing and the small rustle of the still made bed sheets as Hermione sat up on her elbows to look at him. 

Hermione stared at him, the way his breathing changed the shape of his spine and how his fingertips seemed to drill into his own skull as he clutched at it. Her stomach dropped like lead, knowing that he felt the same way she did in that moment - that they had done something stupid, had let wine and grief do the talking when they should have just walked away.

Gingerly, she moved to the edge of the bed and stood, summoning her clothes and started to get dressed in silence. It was when she had finished doing up her jeans and moved to the open door to get her shirt that she heard it, the small soft sobs coming from the boy still sitting on the end of the bed. Swinging around, she saw his shoulders shake, the sounds getting louder under his own hands. Hermione’s breath stopped as she heard it, knowing that she was remembering something she had forgotten, something that only the fragile boy in front of her could bring back.

_ The wind had been howling all night, wracking the walls of Shell Cottage for hours as she tossed and turned in the bed trying to sleep. She was finding it difficult to sleep on the soft mattress after so many months on a hard and rusty camp bed. The room was also far too quiet. She was in the room alone, the boys were sharing a room across the hall. Without the soft snores from Ron, or the fitful turning from Harry, she was finding it near impossible to get any rest, even with how exhausted she felt. _

_ The last few days have been difficult. From recovering from the Manor and Malfoy showing up and being inducted into the Order as a spy to planning to break into Gringotts, Hermione was at the edge of her energy levels. Having to make sure her beaded bag was restocked from Fleur’s supplies and attempting to hide their Gringotts plans from the rest of the Order, she wished she could return to the nights in the tent where there was no one else to watch them and ask them anything. Even if she had hated it, the endless dark and drafty nights - at least they were alone and could feel safe with each other. _

_ Sighing, she sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood. She was sure that sleep was not in the cards for her tonight, so deciding to get a glass of water, she moved carefully across the floorboards, ignoring the slight tremor in her injured arm and leg, and moved through the house. _

_ Hermione had thought, the night before last, that she might like to live in a place like this when it was all over. Like she had said to Harry - somewhere to grow old, somewhere to call her own. Somewhere she could hang her own pictures on the walls, fill it with mismatched furniture and so many books it would make Madam Pince blush with envy. She would fill it with love and memories and would never have to think about the war ever again. She scoffed at her own thought as she felt her right hand softly grab at her left arm - she was sure that would never leave her. _

_ It was when she reached the top of the second set of stairs that she heard it - the sobbing. She knew it wasn’t coming from any of the bedrooms she had passed, so someone must have had the same idea as her. Not wanting to startle them, she made her way gently down the stairs, trying hard to avoid the creaking steps that had plagued her the last few times she had gone wandering at night. It wasn’t until she was halfway down, the sobs continuing, that she heard another voice. _

_ ‘And that is all?’ the voice asked the sobbing person. The voice was distinctive, deep with a soft rumble. It was the voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt.  _

_ Hermione flattened herself against the wall; Kingsley hadn’t been to any of the Order meetings since they arrived here, hadn’t even visited when Malfoy checked in every few days. She didn’t really want him to see her, knowing that he would question her about where they had been and what their plans were and she could not field them as well as Harry could, especially in her sleep deprived state. _

_ ‘I don’t trust you,’ Kingsley continued. ‘If Potter has said he does, then that must be something but…’ _

_ ‘I gave you the information didn’t I? I gave you everything you have asked for!’ Hermione gasped softly, the voice of the sobbing person belonged to Draco Malfoy.  _

_ He had come by yesterday to deliver the next piece of the puzzle, but had not stayed for long, he was not due back until Thursday - after Hermione, Harry and Ron were set to depart with the goblin. _

_ ‘Yes you have,’ Kingsley said. ‘But now you call me here, looking like you have lost your mind with grief and tell me…’ _

_ ‘Please - don’t repeat it!’ Draco stuttered. ‘If anyone heard it, they would never forgive me.’ he said. _

_ ‘And you think they should?’ Kingsley asked, his voice was harsh and Hermione realised she had never heard the authority in it before. _

_ ‘I am never going to forgive myself for it,’ Draco sobbed at the older man. ‘But I am doing everything in my power to help end this. To bring them peace.’ _

_ ‘Them?’ Kingsley asked. _

_ ‘Everyone else.’ _

_ ‘And what about you? Will ending this not bring you peace?’ _

_ ‘I will never know peace again,’ Draco muttered back. _

_ There was a silence between the two of them as Hermione gripped the hem of her pyjamas where she stood, still pressed against the wall. What had Malfoy done that was so terrible? Did Kingsley not see the value in a spy like Malfoy, someone who could be controlled more easily than Snape clearly could, someone who would not turn back in the end like he had? Did Kingsley not realise that the war would have been lost if Malfoy had not helped them escape? _

_ ‘Listen to me clear Malfoy,’ said Kingsley, after what felt like an age of nothing. ‘If I find out you have lied, or that there is more to the story than you say - I will personally find you and kill you.’ _

  
  


‘I have to go,’ she said quietly, still staring at Theo with everything she had. He did not look up when he spoke.

‘Hermione - don’t…’

She could not answer him, did not want him to beg her to stay with him. But when he finally looked up and met her face, it was clear that that was something he did not want either. 

'Can we not talk about this again?’ he asked her, pleading with her, his face red from the tears that were tracked down it. 

If she had been expecting something, it had not been that. Of course, she wasn’t really in a position to say no; she loved Theo but if others found out about this, it would just become another bad decision that the two of them had made. An image flashed in her mind of more disappointed people stood glaring at her for the obvious mistake she had made. Draco was front and centre. Pushing him to the back of the crowd, she met Theo's gaze again and walked forward, cupping his face gently.

‘We can forget this happened.’ he smiled up at her weakly, like he was praying to a God for redemption. ‘If…’ 

Theo’s face fell as fast as he had smiled. 

‘If?’ he asked, his face flushed and screwed up.

‘If you tell me where she is Theo!’

‘I don’t know where she is Hermione!’ she said with defiance.

‘Theo...we can forget all about this. I promise we don’t have to talk about it and we can still be friends - it’s what I want. I know it’s what you want too. Just….tell me where she is.’

Theo sighed and dropped his head, her pulling up and resting against his ear.

‘We tried to get into the house; Blaise and I - but she’s warded every human out. Nothing can penetrate it. I think...I think she only sends the house-elves in and out for food.’

When he lifted his head again, she was smiling at him. Leaning over, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead and watched his eyes flutter closed and another sob escape his perfectly formed lips.

‘Get some sleep, Theo!’ she said, as she turned on her heel and left the room.

  
  


When she made it back to Grimmauld Place; she apparated into the square opposite, she saw the lights in the kitchen were still on. Making her way down the stairs, she heard their soft voices and knew they had heard her enter the house. When she rounded the door, Harry stood up fast and took her in. 

‘Where have you been?’ he shot at her, it was clear he was angry. ‘I have been so worried!’

She did not answer them at first, just took the two of them in. Harry was trembling as he spoke to her, his hair more messy than usual as if he had spent hours running his fingers through it. Ron was still sitting down in the chair next to Harry’s, he was turned slightly as if he had been holding him and trying to calm him down. He had a cup of undrunk coffee in front of him.

‘Well?’ Harry asked, the desperation in his voice clear.

Again, she did not answer, but reached into her pocket and pulled out the silver pendant that she had stored there all night. Looking down into her hand, she saw the jewels twinkle in the light, as if mocking her. Looking back at the two boys, she threw it in their direction and it landed on the table in front of them. 

All three of them stood, their eyes fixed on the small piece of jewellery that now sat between them. Hermione felt as if this impossible moment would never come, and now that it had she was unsure of what to say. Ron’s mouth opened slowly, his eyes widening as he realised what he was looking at

‘Bring her in!’ Hermione said, her voice filled with venom.

‘I will floo Dawlish in the morning and…’ Harry started.

‘No!’ Hermione said. ‘I can’t trust the Auror department with this Harry - Kingsley he...I think he wanted Draco dead he...I think that…’

‘Hermione...that is…’

‘Harry!’ Ron cut across him. ‘This it might be time to take Hermione at her word!’

‘But where do you suppose we take her if I can’t involve the Auror’s?’ Harry asked incredulously.

‘Bring her here!’ Hermione said. She could hear the tone of her voice was hard, but she knew that she needed to show them what she needed from them, she couldn’t be pushed aside any longer.

‘Hermione! That’s illegal. If anyone found out…’

‘We have done worse than that mate!’ Ron said, running a palm down Harry’s back. The small moment of intimacy stopped him in his tracks and he slumped down into the chair.

‘Where is she?’ Harry asked, after a while. The edge in his voice had gone, his eyes were somewhat far away.

‘She is at the Parkinson residence; but she has it warded against humans.’

‘Kreacher!’ Harry called to the house and a small pop behind her told her that Kreacher had arrived in the room. Harry looked past her and spoke. ‘Bring Pansy Parkinson here!’ and with another pop, he was gone.

She did not want to stay there with them, did not want to talk through what she had found out today. She needed to sleep, needed to recuperate and then she needed to go and speak to someone who might have a little more information - not that she was sure he would share it.

‘Where are you going?’ Ron asked her softly as she went to turn around and leave. It was almost as if he could read her mind.

‘I am going to talk to Greyback!’

* * *

Notes: So I have finally reached Chapter 30. I envisage there only being about 5 chapters left - but you know what I am like so dragging it out. Haha - slow burn puzzle to the max. Can't wait to read all your comments and theories. XxX


	31. Chapter 31

Hermione had felt the cold before. She had felt the icy chill of snow stuffed down her coat during snowball fights in the grounds at Hogwarts. She had curled up against wind that had blown in through the several ripped openings of the dilapidated tent. She had sat, frost biting at her fingertips as she begged Harry to stay there, in a forest surrounded by the grey sludge of winter. And she had held him, his frigid body against hers, the raw cold of his skin freezing all her hopes and dreams. But never had she felt a cold like this - a cold that sunk down through to the centre of her bones and threatened to remain. 

In all her years of hearing about Azkaban; of watching adults' faces falling when it was mentioned, of seeing the distant fear etched into Sirius’ eyes, she had never once thought about how it would feel to visit. She knew that Harry and Ron had been here several times since their training had ended but neither of them liked to talk about it. Ron would always drink a little bit more the night after a visit and Harry would sit in silence and retire to his bedroom absurdly early claiming a headache. She was sure these were only some of the many reasons they could think of when they tried to talk her out of it.

‘Why?’ Hermione had asked them when they tried to tell her no.

‘I just don’t think it’s a good time to go. Especially to go and see him.’ Harry had tried to rationalise her idea. ‘What do you hope to get out of him anyway? Everything you need to know is in the interrogation transcript.’

‘I read that Harry and frankly, it’s a joke. All he does is give one word answers and the description Dawlish has given for his physical state while answering just leaves me with more questions than answers.’

‘I know it seems strange, but Dawlish said that was all they could get out of him. You know they can’t give him Veritaserum without the trial, can’t you wait until then?’

‘Since when does Veritaserum wait for an official trial?’ she questioned.

There had been a silence between the two boys as they exchanged dark looks. 

‘One of Kingsley’s new rules?’ she had spat at them and Harry had sighed, rubbing his hands against his face. Hermione sighed, not wanting to cause yet another argument about her suspicions in the ministry.

‘I know that it seems rash - for me to go there,’ she had explained, in a surprisingly soft voice. ‘But after finding this,’ she had gestured to the silver pendant now abandoned on the table, ‘and seeing Narcissa and talking to Theo…’ she trailed off, trying to stop her brain reliving that last few hours.

‘What is it that you need from that place, Hermione?’ Harry had asked her, the pleading look that covered his face made her want to cry. His eyes had started to well with tears at the thought of her going there, but she couldn't think of another way to get the answers she so desperately needed.

‘I need closure, Harry. This trial...the dates not even set! I need to be strong enough to face him, I need to be able to look into his eyes and know that it’s over.’

Harry had looked down to the stone slabbed floor, his arms hanging loosely at his sides as if he had known the battle was lost. Hermione had walked up to him and let her hand cradle his face.

‘I’ll be okay,’ she muttered, looking into his eyes earnestly.

‘She will Harry!’ Ron had said as he stood up from the table. ‘Because I’m going too.’

  
  


With Ron trailing just behind her, she found that it was much easier to focus on her steps - one foot in front of the other, as she tried to keep up with the guard that was leading her. It was lucky, she thought, that so soon after the Battle of Hogwarts, the Ministry had decided that the Dementors could not be trusted to run the prison all alone. Guards from the newly administered ‘Wizarding Rehabilitation Department’ had been sent to control the creatures. Hermione had had many conversations with Harry about how the creatures now only defended the outside of the Fortress and were only called inside to administer the Kiss, which was under review this year by the Wizengamot, and to deal with out of control prisoners. Harry was one of the driving forces behind the changes in the prison,not only because he had spent years harrowed by the way that Sirius was treated, but also because he wanted to make sure that prisoners served their time and didn’t expire within the year of sentencing. Even without the soul sucking creatures, Hermione had to admit, Azkaban was still a nightmare.

She tried not to look into the other cells that she passed, but the fortress seemed to have a power that forced her eyes to wander and meet the dead eyes of the other prisoners. Her ears were assaulted with sounds that she knew would haunt her dreams; sobbing, screaming, laughing. But even that was not as terrible as the taunts of the prisoners who had not yet succumbed to the maddening aura of the place. Maybe they had heard that two war-heroes were coming; Hermione had a horrible, sinking feeling that some of them could smell her, smell her blood purity, smell the fear that she tried to suppress. They were up against the bars as she reached them, their chains tight on their wrists, their matted hair clinging to their dead skin, their fingertips clutching at the rusted bars. The words they said to her made her skin crawl.

‘Look at Potter’s bitch.’

‘I heard you like a bit of Death Eater sweetheart.’

‘Looking for a new boyfriend mudblood?’

‘You think Ginger is going to keep you safe!’

She fought to keep her breathing steady as the barbs of Death Eaters ate away at her fragile protections, but she felt Ron’s hand a heavy relief on her shoulder, urging her to keep moving and reminding her of his calming presence. It was only when she came to the cell of a man with white blonde hair that she stopped moving and shook Ron’s hand off, feeling him step in close behind her. She watched him, the curled figure in the cell, closed lipped as he met her eyes with the same dead desperation that she had seen many times before, on a pair of eyes so startlingly similar and yet so hauntingly different. Hermione could feel the bile rising in her throat as she realised how much the two of them shared, how some things not even Narcissa could have taken from the pale boy she lost.

Hermione did not know what she expected from the man in the cage, the bars silhouetted on his shadowed and gaunt face as he rose to stand before her. Without hesitation, Hermione felt Ron stiffen behind her and lay a hand somewhere near her elbow, but Hermione did not move. She was not scared as the platinum man moved towards her, knowing that this was not the person she feared, not the person she had come to see. Less than a moment later, Lucius Malfoy slowly straightened before her and, without losing eye contact, tipped his head to her. It was not patronising, maybe the most sincere she had seen him and her stomach clenched at the gesture. In another world, maybe, she would scream and Ron would throw an insult that lessened them to his level. But here, Hermione knew he was already as low as he could be; alone and childless. She could only hold his gaze for a moment longer before she had to push on to stem the flow of empty words in her head.

Shivering, she pushed herself further into the maze of stone and sounds, knowing that the person she was looking for lay in the deep underbelly of the frosty palace. Passing through gates and corridors as if they were smoke, she could feel her nerves start to get the better of her, her fingers start to shake and she grabbed across herself, holding her left arm to steady when they came to a final gate and met a new guard.

‘Passing on the two visitors,’ their current guard said, unlocking the gate with his wand and letting Hermione and Ron pass by. 

‘Thanks Pritchard,’ their new guard said to the retreating back of the previous man.

Hermione laid eyes on the new guard and, taking him in, could not shake the feeling that his face was familiar. His mousy brown hair, swept across the forehead of his round face, gave her the impression of a short Neville Longbottom. He was, however, a little rounder than their friend; more akin to the Neville of their younger Hogwarts years. The only other disguisable thing about this man was a scar that ran from the bottom of his left ear to the corner of his mouth. Hermione gave the man a small smile, not wanting to stare for too long and passed him while Ron stepped through the gate. He locked it behind them.

‘Having a good day so far?’ the man asked them, then chuckled. ‘Sorry - anything to make my day a bit brighter.’

‘That’s okay Hawkins,’ Ron said, chuckling from behind Hermione. ‘Lead the way.’

As he started to lead them down yet another stone flagged corridor, Ron and Guard Hawkins started to make polite conversation. Hermione was pleased for the distraction of listening to them, anything to press down the worry that was rising in her gut.

‘Auror Weasley, it’s been a while since we have seen you down this way. Been keeping yourself busy?’ 

Guard Hawkins' voice was unusually bright; the kind of bright that gave you a migraine if you listened for too long. He was so at odds with his surroundings it was clear to Hermione why he was picked for the job. The Ministry had been so desperate to fill the positions that they had been forced to offer an unusually high salary. Of course, this had meant that they were inundated with applications. Hermione knew that the selection process was long and that most of the applicants were handpicked by the Auror Department and the Minister himself. 

‘Just busy with a few cases. Me and my partner have been trying to close the Malfoy case - push it through to trial, you know?’

Hermione now wished that she was not listening, as their conversation took a turn to a place she did not want to think about at that moment. She did notice, however, that Ron’s voice was unusually low next to Hawkin’s voice of literal sunshine.

‘I can see why. Is that why you are here today?’

‘Can’t officially say at the moment. The only reason you know so much already is because you are the prisoner’s guard.’

‘Don’t worry! I get it - protocol and everything. To be honest - I am not sure you are going to get much out of him. Not much more than Auror Dawlish anyway.’

‘Well Auror Dawlish came here months ago. The situation might have...changed’ Hermione said before she could stop herself.

‘Begging your pardon Miss Granger...but Auror Dawlish was here not last month to question the prisoner.’

Hermione whipped her head around and shot Ron a confused look. Her initial thought was that Ron and Harry were keeping things from her, they were the Auror’s officially assigned to handle the rest of the case. Ron has said a few times that they wanted to pass it over because they believed it was a conflict of interests, but Hermione had pressed them to keep it so that she could stay involved. But the look on Ron’s face matched hers.

‘Last month?’ Ron asked.

‘Yes and…’ Hawkins' voice faltered and, although he was still walking ahead of them and they were unable to see his face, he gave the impression of someone who said something he should not have.

‘There have been no files reported about the visits. I haven’t seen them in the Auror entry log!’ Ron started quickly, picking up on the same feeling that Hermione had sliding down the back of her throat.

‘Sorry Auror Weasley,’ Hawkins said, coming to a stop and turning to face them both with a sigh. His shoulders sagged before them and he would not meet their eyes. ‘I have to admit, I wasn’t meant to say anything. Auror Dawlish did visit last month but was asked to keep it off the record.’

‘By who?’ Ron asked, his voice echoing the urgency that Hermione felt.

‘I’m sorry… he didn’t share it with me...I...have I done something wrong sir?’ Hawkins stuttered, his round and friendly face, pale with shock and worry. The sight of him this way deflated Ron.

‘No, of course not. Don’t worry Hawkins - I am sure somebody back at the Ministry can tell me.’

After that, Hawkins did not speak for the rest of the journey and kept throwing the two of them guilty looks over his shoulder. When they arrived at a corner cell, set back from the rest of the corridor, he stopped and stood to the side looking at his feet.

‘Fenrir Greyback,’ he said in a quiet voice, moving his eyebrows to indicate the cell they had stopped at. ‘I will be waiting here for you. I won’t be able to hear the conversation you have, Miss Granger, it’s Ministry protocol. If you need any further assistance, then please just say my name or shout ‘guard’ and I will be there straight away.’

‘Thank you Hawkins,’ Ron said, placing a steady hand on Hermione’s lower back as she turned to face the, now open, bars of his cell. She did not move forward straight away, even with Ron’s hands edging her forwards, she felt a little too sick to.

‘Hermione - ‘came Ron’s voice after Hawkins had moved away and they stood for a few minutes. ‘-you really don’t have to…’

‘I do Ron!’ she said defiantly. ‘I just have to...compose myself.’ She turned her head towards him and saw that his eyes were filled with concern. There were a million things running through her head all at once, questions she thought she needed to ask Ron, but couldn’t quite differentiate one from the other. Almost as if he was reading her mind again, he started to talk.

‘He can’t really move from his position and he is chained. If we stay behind the white line then he can’t get at you even if he does move.’ He was speaking slowly and staring through her eyes and into the pit of her stomach, almost as if trying to unwind the knots himself. ‘You can cross the line - if you want to. When you do, his chains lock him in place. Not that you are going to, but I still wouldn’t advise getting too close.’

Hermione nodded along to everything he said, letting it wash over her as if she was in one of Professor McGonagall’s transfiguration lessons. She was listening to the method, furiously taking mental notes and double checking them before she moved onto the practical participation. If not for the way he spoke to her, Hermione had started to think she might not have been able to enter the cell at all. Ron placed both of his hands on her shoulders and squeezed lightly before moving to cup her face, his thumbs resting either side of her nose.

‘And I’ll be right next to you. If you need me, you don’t even have to ask.’

With that, something inside her locked and she knew that she could face him. Turning away from her red-headed friend, she moved slowly into the darkness of the cell and let her eyes wander over the sight before her.

Just like Lucuis Malfoy’s cell, it was small and made of grey stone. As she stepped past the orange rusted bars, she noticed the white line spring up onto the flagged floor, almost burning the room in more light than it had probably seen in the months it had been inhabited. There was a small window on the top right hand corner, also covered in bars, and Hermione could make out the distant floating shapes of the Dementors. She looked everywhere she could before her eyes fell on the heap in the bottom left of the cell, trying to maintain an aura of calm, but when she finally let her mind accept his form before her, her breath caught in her throat, her lungs filling with an icy venom. 

He was ragged and dirty, his dark brown hair hanging around his face like a curtain, his skin grey and gaunt. The Azkaban uniform, the same striped grey trousers and shirt she had seen on Sirius all those years before with it’s number sewn on the front, hung off him like loose skin, only gripped tight where they met the chains. Long, thick and clearly heavy metal chains that wound around his wrists and ankles, bolted into the floor and covered in a protective magic that was so strong Hermione could feel its pulse. It almost surprised her that the manacles could stay on, he was so thin. If her heart hadn’t been beating so fast in her ears, she might have turned to Ron to point it out. At this moment, however, even though it seemed to have taken her an age to look at him, she couldn’t tear herself away now - not even if she wanted to. 

The longer she looked, the more she noticed. He was so close to the corner of the room, it appeared as if he wanted to become part of the wall. Sickeningly, it reminded Hermione of the night they had caught him, the smell of the Scottish ruins upon her again. She remembered so clearly how he had pushed away from them all, gouging at the wall to try to get away but seemingly too weak or stupid to do anything but cower. There was no urgency in him now, just an eerie stillness. His knees were bent up, his feet flat on the floor and his arms folded around himself as if trying to retain an ounce of warmth. There was a slight tremor in his hands, but nothing more than that to indicate that this was a living breathing human - well - whatever he was. It was now that Hermione noticed that his eyes were closed.

‘Greyback,’ she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

On hearing his name, his eyes shot open and Hermione almost wretched at the blackness of them. They were the soulless pits she had now had the displeasure to look at more times than any human should, and she couldn’t possibly pull away - not when she was this close. As his eyes had opened, so had the rest of his body and he began to shake his head as he took her in, slowly sliding himself backwards with the help of his feet.

‘Greyback,’ Ron said and the werewolves' eyes snapped to him. ‘We have come to ask you a few questions. It is in your best interest that you cooperate so that your trial date can be moved up.’ His voice was stern and solid, everything Hermione needed him to be.

‘What do you remember of the night you were arrested?’ Ron asked. 

Greyback shook his head more forcefully now, his eyes widening at the sight of the Auror. 

‘You will answer our questions Greyback - you know the punishment for insubordination!’ Ron’s voice was darker now and Greyback made a small sound, if Hermione did not know him, did not know of the vile and unspeakable acts he had committed, she would have called it a whimper.

‘I….he…’ muttered Greyback, his mouth forming more words but no sounds were coming out of it. She watched as the prisoner slumped and breathed in harsh and ragged breaths, as if his lungs were collapsing under him.

Ron sighed slightly and looked towards Hermione with a resigned face. This is what they had read in Dawlish’s report; one word answers, jittering and confused, unable to speak much with heavy breathing. She had read it over and over, trying to gain some semblance of understanding of that night and his behaviour, but nothing had become clear. Hermione was determined not to give up though.

‘Greyback,’ she said again, this time her words were clear and strong. Maybe it was her resistance to leave this place with nothing or the sight of him weak before her, but she felt a courage inside her she had not really had since before Scotland. ‘What happened the night you killed Draco?’

His eyes were upon her once again and she could see the Adam's Apple of his throat bobbing in an effort to talk. His lips began to quiver and his hands were fisted so tightly that the chains wrapped around him rattled. 

‘I….I am….I did….’ he whispered through gritted teeth and then took his fist and slammed it across against the wall, the manacle denting the stone. The movement made Hermione jump and Ron’s wand shot out of its holster and into his fingers. Hermione watched as he raised it to Greyback, no indication of fear in him as he looked at Hermione.

‘We knew he wasn’t speaking, and that his physicality was strange. But why does it seem like he wants to speak but can’t? Why does he look like he’s in agony when he tries?’ Ron asked her, his eyebrows close together in confusion.

‘When I read the report there was no indication that he was struggling to talk. Look at him Ron, it’s as if he physically can’t speak,’ Hermione told him in a hushed tone.

‘Hawkins!’ Ron shouted and, in an instant, the round faced guard had joined them, his wand out.

‘Yes sir?’ he asked.

‘Why can’t the prisoner talk?’

‘He came to us like that Sir! The night that he was delivered to us he could not speak. I am sure that Auror Dawlish wrote it in his report,’ Hawkwins answered quickly.

Hermione and Ron exchanged another look - the paperwork did not say anything of this. Looking back at the deformed figure of Greyback, Hermione saw that the arrival of a third wizard had forced him to clasp his hands into his hair, pulling at his own filthy locks in apparent agony. Hermione grimaced at the sight, unable to feel any sympathy for the disgusting creature before her. It enraged her, to see him like this, as if he was trying to elicit sympathy from them. Hermione did not want to feel anything but hate for the thing that broke him, for the thing that took him away. 

‘It’s over here, Ron,’ she spat out. ‘We can’t get anything from him.’ she turned her back on the quivering lump, pushing Ron on the shoulder to turn him towards the exit and, unfortunately, towards more unanswered questions.

‘Granger!’ the voice stopped her. She slowly turned back around to see the black eyes of Fenrir Greyback staring at her and he stood before her. His face was shaking, his jaw was clenched so hard that she was sure it would pop out of its hinge and he was pulling on his chains for support. 

Immediately, Ron and Hawkins ran forward and shoved their wands in his throat, trying to push him back against the wall. But Greyback was fighting, it was the most fight she had seen in him since Springvale Castle and a flicker of fear ran through her, screaming at her to get out of there. But something rooted her to the spot; there was something behind the black eyes, something in the way that he said her name made her stay.

‘Get back, scum!’ Ron was shouting, throwing his knee up to collide with Greyback’s stomach. No matter how much strength the werewolf may have summoned up to speak to her, the kick sent him, doubled over, to the stone floor, his knee’s colliding with the paved slabs with a sickening crunch. 

‘Hermione, get out of here. I will meet you in the corridor!’ Ron was panting, his face covered in sweat as he tried to help the guard put Greyback back in his place. Finding her footing, Hermione slowly stepped back, not willing to turn her back on the sight before her. Her hands flailing behind her until they hit the cool metal bars.

‘No! Granger!’ Greyback managed to bite out, flinching and writhing as if it caused him pain to do so.

‘Shut Up!’ Ron shouted, digging the wand tip even further into the soft flesh of Greyback’s neck. And as if he could not hold it anymore, as if it burst out of him, he screamed something that made Hermione’s blood run cold.

‘Will there ever….’ he was growling like a wounded dog. ‘ever...be a moment that you won’t question this?’

It was a deafening scream that came next and Hermione tried to focus on it as all the breath left her body and she collapsed against the same stone floor that Greyback had not moments ago. Reaching out to grab hold of something, she managed to feel soft flesh under her fingers as her lungs fought for the air that would stop the dizziness that had erupted in her head. Ron came into view, his face covered in a recognisable panic.

‘Hermione, you have to calm down. You have to breathe,’ he was saying, so fast that Hermione found it very difficult to focus on him.

‘How….how did….’ she was panting, her chest tight as her fingernails dug into the jacket covering Ron’s arms.

‘Hermione, please - 5 things.’ he said.

‘Ron!’ she whispered hysterically, and continued to whisper the last thing she could say before the darkness enveloped her. ‘How did he know?’

_ She lay awake, unable to drift off with her brain going over their fight again and again. That, and the added pressure of what had happened to Theo not hours ago had meant that, despite her best efforts, her brain would not let her go to sleep and she feared for her productivity in lessons tomorrow. _

_ ‘Are you awake?’ she whispered into the darkness of the room, giving up on staying silent. For a moment there was nothing but silence filling the bedroom again, before he sighed next to her and turned to face her. _

_ As he rolled over, the moonlight streaming through the window highlighted his sharp features. If she had not been so worried about the conversation that was about to take place, Hermione was sure she would have gasped at the beauty of him. There was something about the way his skin looked when it was being kissed by the faint light of the moon that made her want to thank every deity that had ever been worshipped. _

_ ‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her, the low rumble of his voice rolling over her like a wave.  _

_ She sighed, but did not look away from him. She found it difficult to know where to begin; she was sure that there were many things wrong with her in that moment but she needed to make sure to pinpoint the right one. She thought about it, taking her time, knowing that Draco would wait for her to speak before saying anything more. It was one of the things that she respected about him the most. She had spent the majority of her teenage years fighting to be heard and having to speak fast when she got the opportunity, as Harry and Ron were so prone to interrupting her. But Draco was not like that. If he asked her a question, she was sure that he would wait days to speak again until he heard her answer. Maybe it came from a place of pride and vanity; but to Hermione, it seemed like the most intimate form of communication. _

_ ‘It’s about our fight,’ she finally said, in a small voice, pursing her lips together. _

_ ‘Oh,’ he said, blinking rapidly. It occurred to her that maybe he had expected a conversation about Theo. ‘What about it?’ he asked in a clipped tone. _

_ ‘I wanted to...I want to say sorry,’ Hermione said and watched as his eyebrows raised slightly and he nodded. _

_ ‘I would like to do the same thing,’ he said, moving his hand and resting it on her waist. _

_ ‘Why?’ Hermione asked, shaking her head and looking into his eyes. ‘I am the one that went behind your back to talk to your friend and brought things up I shouldn’t have. I…’ _

_ ‘Hermione - while what you are saying is perfectly true,’ he shot her a smirk as he raised himself up, leaning his head on his hand. ‘I also said some things I utterly regret and...honestly...I think I over-reacted.’ _

_ ‘But…’ she tried to counter him, but he gave her a look and he continued to speak. _

_ ‘You have a right to ask questions about things...even if I don’t particularly like where they are going. If you didn’t, how would you ever trust me?’ _

_ ‘I do trust you,’ Hermione said, it surprised her because before the words had come out of her mouth, it was not something she had been able to admit to herself. There were only a handful of people she could trust implicitly, and somehow he had made his way into it without her realizing. _

_ ‘I don’t want to always question you,’ Hermione said to him, lifting her hand to stroke through his hair. ‘Sometimes...it’s just how I work things out in my head. This,’ she gestured between the two of them, ‘is still so surprisingly new that I don’t want to overthink things by myself and come to the wrong conclusion.’ _

_ ‘Ever the dedicated study I see?’ Draco laughed and pulled her closer, planting a soft kiss on her forehead. _

_ ‘When you said that...that thing about me finding a time not to question you...us...I do want that!’ she said quietly, her lips resting against his jawline as she cuddled into him. _

_ ‘And we will find it together, Granger. I promise we will try!’ _

  
  


When she opened her eyes again, she was sitting up against the wall, back in the stone corridor of the prison with Ron kneeling in front of her fussing over her vitals and checking her knees for any sign of damage.

‘What happened?’ she shot at him, but he did not answer, just continued to fuss over her. 

Hermione looked around to see Guard Hawkins stood a little way away, speaking to another guard who must have come to help him and Ron. She tried to make eye contact with them, but they would not look.

‘Ron!’ she cried, and he looked at her in the eyes. ‘What happened? Where’s Greyback?’

‘He passed out!’ Ron said in a small voice.

‘What?’ Hermione asked, confused by the statement.

‘After he said...whatever he said...he started screaming as if - as if he were on fire. Hawkins was going to stun him, but before he needed to, Greyback collapsed unconscious. I was already with you - trying to get you calm and then you...passed out as well.’

Hermione brought a shaking hand up to her forehead and found that it was drenched in sweat. She wiped it away, noticing that her breathing was under control. Feeling a little embarrassed, she held out her hands for Ron to help her off the floor. He pulled her up on slightly shaky legs and, in silence, they began to make their way out of the prison. 

The journey back to the entrance was quicker than Hermione expected, it seemed that they were checking out in no time and logging themselves on the visitor list. They did not talk again until they stepped into the cold wind on the edge of the island, the doors of the prison closing behind them. It was then that Ron rounded on her.

‘What happened Hermione?’ he asked her, taking her hand in his and gripping it. Hermione did not really want to relive it, to hear those words come out of his mouth, but how else was she going to be able to get her head around this?

‘What he said...he…’

‘The thing about the questions?’ Ron asked and she nodded, dragging in her bottom lip to worry it between her teeth.

‘Draco said that to me once - ages ago!’

‘What did it mean?’

‘It didn’t really mean anything. He said it to me to end a stupid fight about Pansy and Theo’s poisening. It seems...inconsequential...now.’

‘If it's so...inconsequential...then what happened to you in there? You looked like Harry when he wakes up from a nightmare.’

Hermione moved closer to him and sighed.

‘I have been having panic attacks,’ she said to him. ‘I guess just hearing those words - must have triggered something inside me. It made me remember what happened after the fight. Made me think about how Draco had apologised and told me to question him as much as I liked.’

‘Sounds a bit like his letter,’ Ron smiled sadly as Hermione nodded.

‘What I don’t get,’ Hermione continued, looking at Ron with furrowed eyebrows. ‘Is how did Greyback know to say something like that?’

If, she wondered to herself, they had fought somewhere very public, then the information could have been passed on by anyone - even Pansy who was currently her number one target as they spoke. But they hadn’t, they had been in the Head Common Room. The only other person they had spoken to prior to the fight was Blaise and he didn’t know what Draco had said. They had sorted the fight that night after they returned from the hospital wing and Hermione had not even shared it with Ginny. 

‘Maybe he...you know - dug it out of him,’ Ron said. His face clearly showed that he did not want to be thinking about the final moments of Draco Malfoy. Hermione, who had spent the last few months thinking of nothing else, had not even thought of that as a possibility.

‘You think he scoured his memories?’

‘Anything to get back at you right? Do you not remember what he said to you at Springvale - that he already had a claim on you. I bet he just wanted to find anything that he could use to shock or intimidate you.’

‘I guess.’

The two of them fell into a silence and then started to move towards the apparition point at the end of the island. Looking out to the horizon on the blisteringly chilly and choppy Irish sea, Hermione could still see the black outlines of the Dementors roaming around. Their cloaks were whipping around their corpse like forms like unruly spirits. Ron stopped before her and held out his hand, but Hermione could not take it.

‘Ron...why was Greyback in pain?’ Hermione asked.

‘I don’t know. I think we need to talk to Harry about it. Get a third set of eyes on this.’

With that she grabbed his hand and felt the familiar tug behind her navel as they were pushed through the black tunnel. When they both landed in the green square opposite Grimmauld Place, Hermione let out a long breath and allowed herself to be led to the front door and subsequently pushed inside by Ron.

‘Harry, we are home!’ Ron called to the seemingly empty house. They did not have to wait long before they heard his voice coming from the sitting room.

‘In here!’ he shouted back.

They both made their way, Hermione hoping to collapse onto the sofa and beg Harry to make her some tea before they had to recant their tale of the prison. Her idea, however, was short lived as she came through the door and her eyes took in the sight before her. 

Harry stood with his back to the door, his wand lazily pointed towards one of the armchairs. The armchair in question was filled with a guest, a guest wearing thin black trousers and a green, silk blouse. Her hair was cut into a violent bob and her face was thick with pristinely completed makeup.

‘So...the gangs all here. Are you going to tell me why the fuck I was kidnapped by a disgusting old elf today?’ Pansy Parkinson shot at the three of them.

* * *

Notes: I have been working towards this chapter for a while (it was actually one of the first ideas that had come to me when I imagined the fic in the first place) so I really hope I have been able to do it justice and also push the story forward a little bit. I have been living for all your comments - and I know that sometimes it seems like I am just adding more fire to the flames and turning the story into a big convoluted mess - but it is going somewhere. These is an end and the puzzle will be solved.


	32. Chapter 32

If Hermione had thought she was angry when she saw Greyback, she knew she had been wrong the moment her eyes landed on Pansy. The pain and fury at the werewolf was nothing compared to the all consuming rage she felt as she saw the perfectly presented Slytherin. 

The last time she had really swept her eyes over the girl had been the night she burst into the Head’s common room; that night she had been a mess. Hermione had been true to her word with McGonagall and had not gone looking for the girl, so she had never seen the fallout that met Pansy upon Draco’s death. She had heard down the grapevine that she had not been in a good way, had not left her dormitory for days at a time. Of course, Hermione did not feel sorry for the girl, she just found it strange that she could sit before them now, looking at if she owned the world when Hermione felt like she had lost it. She was led to believe that Draco had been a big figure in Pansy’s life; surely she would still be feeling something. The rest of them so clearly were.

Pansy’s quick remark had been met with deadly silence, the Trio bearing down on her like a pack of wolves. Hermione felt like a wolf, had the need to rip the girl limb from limb for what she had done, the pain she had put her through. Felt the muscles in her jaw twitch with the need to leap forward and maim he, take her perfect hair and her stylish manicure and ruin it forever. Hermione had known that Slytherin would eventually be brought to Grimmauld, but seeing her sitting there, bold as brass, shouting around orders made the veins of her body run hot and tempered.

‘When did she get here?’ Hermione spat at Harry, her voice dark and venomous.

‘About an hour ago,’ he replied in a voice that was much too calm. He sounded like a much younger version of himself, slightly unsure but trying to hold it together. Hermione was reminded of a Harry who had sat in the Three Broomsticks while he heard how his parents were betrayed.

‘Where did Kreacher pick her up?’ Ron asked, his voice also strangely calm. Was this their famous Auror training kicking in, how to act nonchalant in front of a hostage? Hermione could feel his eyes darting between Harry and herself, his face wary of the outburst that she could feel rising in her throat.

‘Just like Nott said, she was hiding out at the Parkinson residence. He just…’

‘Theo!’ the black haired girl shrieked indignantly. ‘He ratted me out? The little sneak!’

But the trio ignored her. .’Kreacher was able to pop right in and grab her.’ Harry finished.

‘Did Kreacher say anything about the state of the place? Was he able to talk to some of the other house elves in employ?’ Ron asked, again Hermione was struck by the normalcy with which they were conducting the conversation. If anything, it did nothing to calm her nerves and she could feel herself becoming more riled by the minute.

‘No. He said it wasn’t wise and that she…’

‘I am sitting right here!’ she said, crossing her arms like a petulant child. ‘It’s quite rude to ignore the person you have taken hostage.’

‘Parkinson!’ Ron threatened, clearly seeing Hermione close to losing it. Her fists were clenching and unclenching and, at this point, he could probably hear the clash of her teeth as she ground them together. ‘Whether or not you think you can order us around and talk down to us, you are not really in a position to bargain. Co-operate and we will see to it that you are treated fairly.’

‘Treated fairly? What power do you have, Weasel? You have illegally taken me to your place of residence. And I am not in a position to bargain? You have nothing but me and, even I can admit, that is not so much a prize in the current climate. This is the problem with you blood traitors - trying to play Pureblood games but have no idea what you are doing.’

‘Kreacher!’ Harry shouted, and the old elf popped into view. ‘Watch the Parkinson girl! Make sure she doesn’t get her filthy mitts on any of my stuff!’

Kreacher bowed low with a nod and turned to face Pansy, standing guard, looking reminiscent of the bouncers that Hermione used to see littering her town’s high street in the summer evenings. Harry turned, walking towards them and, grabbing both by the hand, led them out into the hallway. Something Pansy had said had his mind working overtime.

‘Harry!’ Hermione whispered urgently when he released her. ‘What are you doing? She can easily get away in there!’

‘I warded the house after she arrived, only we can come and go as we please,’ he sighed. ‘Hermione - she’s here….what are you hoping for now? What’s the big plan?’

He stared at her and Hermione could see the fear in his eyes. The three of them had done some risky things in the past, breaking rules that no one should cross. But she knew, looking at the way his face was pulled tight, that he hated what they were doing. 

‘We just need to find out how involved she was. Dig into all the incidents at school, talking to the fireplace, the pendant…’

‘She’s right, Hermione. Pansy is right! We have nothing to bargain with…’ he looked panicked as he said it. ‘This was a stupid idea!’

‘Harry, mate, don’t think like that. You know the rules; play your cards close to your chest, drag the information out of her and use that to bargain her release.’ Ron said, placing a strong hand on Harry’s shoulder.

‘I am in no doubt that she knows something that we need,’ Hermione said softly.

‘What about you and Draco breaking up? Do you want her to tell you about it?’ Ron asked softly. Hermione sighed. She did want to know why he had done it, if they had slept together, but she wondered if any of that even mattered now. Even if she knew the reason, it couldn’t be changed. That was if Pansy knew anything about it at all - even Narcissa had said what a private person Draco had been. What could be changed was catching the filth responsible for his death.

‘We’ll just see what we can get out of her. Try and decipher if any of it links to Greyback the way the report says.

Harry and Ron nodded. She appreciated the change in them since the previous night, as if they were finally on the same side again. Part of her, deep down, was excited to be having yet another mysterious adventure with her two best friends, reliving their days ignoring the advice of older and wiser people to take it upon themselves. She had felt as such odds with them the last month; almost as if she was being left behind while they sped ahead with their new and wonderful life. 

‘What did happen with Greyback?’ Harry asked, before they had a chance to move back into the drawing room.

‘It was a mess!’ Ron said darkly. ‘He is similar to what the report says, but it isn’t that he’s refusing to talk - it’s like he physically can’t. I spoke to that Guard Hawkins who said he has been like this the whole time. And get this…’ Ron added, seeming to pick up speed excitedly. ‘Hawkins said that Dawlish had been visiting and had been told by someone to keep it off the visitor records. What do you think about that Harry? Odd, huh?’

‘Yeah,’ said Harry slowly, nodding. ‘But who would be telling him that?’ He sighed dramatically and with a small smirk drove on, ‘I overheard Robards the other day complaining to Pearson, Dawlish’s partner,’ he nodded towards Hermione, ‘that he has had loads of unaccounted mission time. But Pearson just said he had forms sighed from higher up the ladder.’

Hermione’s stomach dropped. For the fourth time that week, the idea of someone high up within the Ministry interfering in due process had come up. She hated the way that her mind went to Kingsley automatically, he wasn’t a nice person but he had been a damn good Order member and was now interim Minister for Magic. She wanted to be able to trust the people in power now that the war was over, but was finding it so difficult to lay her trust in anyone but herself. If he was the one responsible, in some way, for Draco, then what had been the point of fighting against evil in the war?

‘There’s one more thing,’ Ron said, and Harry raised his eyebrows. ‘We think Greyback went through Draco’s memories the night he killed him.’

‘How do you know?’ Harry asked, suddenly shaken, head snapping to Hermione.

‘Something he said...only Draco would know it. Something he said to me in the middle of a silly argument. But he’s in prison, what can he do with the memories but shake me up a bit?’

Harry’s reaction to her comment made her jump. Hey growled, turning away and kicking the banister by the stairs. His hands went straight into his hair, pulling at the strands as if it were taffy. 

‘Harry what's…’ Hermione started to say, but he swung around and stared at the two of them with wild eyes.

‘If he has Draco’s memories….he knows!’’ said Harry, his voice desperate and scared.

‘What do you mean he knows, mate?’ Ron walked over to him, trying to placate Harry but he threw him off.

‘The Horcruxes! The four of us were the only ones alive to know...if Greyback reveals it...We promised to take it to our graves!’

  
  
  


_ The note had arrived by her bedside in Gryffindor Tower not an hour before. _

_ She had been going to throw her things down after yet another press conference, hoping to spend some time packing. Their two week stay at the castle since the Battle was nearly over, they would soon be returning to some semblance of normal life, but she had not been able to keep the dorm tidy. It was just Harry, Ron and herself staying in one of the first year dorms. They had been offered rooms elsewhere but Hermione had made it clear that the three of them needed to stay together. It was only Mrs Weasley who had put up a fuss initially and Hermione had been worried, not really up for another fight. But she had soon backed down when Ron had simply said ‘please, Mum. Don’t.’ It had been useful as, for the first few nights, the nightmares and insomnia would have been almost unbearable had they not had each other to lean on and curl up next to. _

_ Walking up to her bed, it had materialized before her. She had stared at it, her heart pummeling inside her, unsure of what to do. The three of them had been told not to open mail sent to them under any circumstances. Anything addressed to them was being checked by the Auror and Unspeakable Office. Kingsley had said that it was protocol and that they were worried of resurgence attacks by straggler Death Eaters. The thought has made Hermione’s insides squirm, and so she continued to stare at the small, folded yellow parchment until Harry and Ron had come to join her, _

_ ‘What is it?’ Harry asked, in a low voice when he saw her posture. _

_ ‘This note came out of nowhere when I walked in,’ she replied, not taking her eyes off it. _

_ ‘I have one too!’ Ron had said, confusion dripping off his voice. Turning, Hermione saw the note on his bedside table and, looking quickly to Harry’s bed, found one there too. _

_ ‘What do you think they are?’ she asked them. _

_ ‘Well, there is only one way to find out…’ Ron said, reaching his hand forward but Harry was fast and grabbed his wrist. _

_ ‘Ron…’ he breathed quickly. ‘We have to be careful, you know what Kingsley said. Hermione, can you cast a quick diagnostic?’ he asked. _

_ ‘Sure - it won’t be very advanced though…’ she trailed off as she pulled her wand out and gave it a quick, graceful wave towards her own note. She had felt the magic flow through her, as if her own core were reading the very vitals of the thick paper. But...there was nothing, so Harry had reached forward to grab it. Hermione saw him run his fingers over the edges of the parchment, smoothing it out and then watching as his brow furrowed as he read over the note. _

_ ‘Meet me by the lake in an hour. DM.’ he read out. _

_ ‘What does he want?’ Ron asked with a snide voice.  _

_ Hermione did not say anything at first, letting a silence fall between the three of them. She felt a little guilty as she had not told them about her conversation with him the previous night in the Astronomy Tower. When Hermione had followed the back of Draco’s head as he had descended the steps the previous night, she had felt a great pang of longing; longing to make everything okay again. Even though she had tried to give him words of comfort, she was unsure whether she had really done anything to help his situation. Was the note a cry for help? In truth, Hermione did not know why she kept the conversation a secret. Of course, they were not friends with Malfoy, just unassuming allies towards the end of the war. She knew that Harry would probably not begrudge the conversation they had had. If Harry had been the one to find him, she would hope that he would have done the same thing. But, Ron was a bit of a wildcard on the Draco Malfoy front. He did not like to speak about the boy before the war, he did not like to mention him or his Order involvement now. Why would he want to speak about his impending trial? _

_ ‘I guess we won’t know until we go,’ Hermione said resolutely. _

_ ‘You want to go to meet him?’ Ron asked, again his voice full of a venom that he usually adopted when speaking about Malfoy. _

_ ‘How else are we going to find out what he wants?’ Hermione asked. ‘He’s getting picked up by the Auror’s not long after that to be taken to Azkaban.’  _

_ ‘Which he knew would happen. Does he want us to try and fight them off?’ _

_ ‘Ron,’ Harry said reproachfully. ‘I agree with Hermione on this. We owe him one!’ Hermione sighed, grateful for the compassion that he was showing. _

_ ‘Owe him? Doesn’t he owe us? We could have killed him that night at Shell Cottage, but instead we offered him shelter!’ _

_ ‘Without him, I would have died Ron!’ Hermione retorted. _

_ ‘You say that every time!’ he grumbled under his voice. _

_ ‘Doesn’t make it any less true,’ she bickered back, scrunching her face in annoyance, _

_ ‘Don’t fight!’ Harry said, rubbing his hands on his forehead. ‘It’s not just about saving Hermione. He saved all of us that night! And then gave us information that turned the war around, not to mention saving out skins during the Battle….and what Narcissa did for me!’’ _

_ And that was the matter settled. All three of them headed out of the tower an hour later, making their way through the broken walls and scorched doorways, through the entrance hall and over towards the lake. Hermione could see him as soon as she stepped out on the sloping lawn, his brilliant white hair reflecting the evening sun, making it glow slightly orange. As they walked closer, she realised that he looked different from the previous night; he had had a haircut and was dressed in a prim black suit. He was probably preparing himself to go to Azkaban, she thought to herself. The only remnants of the battle left on him were a burn mark along his jawline and a nasty purple bruise that drew from his temple and into his flawless hairline. _

_ ‘Thank you for meeting me,’ he said. It struck Hermione how formal the greeting was. She tried to pinpoint a moment in the last six months where they had changed from angry greetings to respectable ones, but she did not seem to be able to. _

_ ‘What do you need?’ Harry asked, stepping forward from the three of them and moving his head as if in charge.  _

_ ‘They are coming to take me in an hour and…’ he started, but Ron interrupted. _

_ ‘Want us to get you out of it?’ spat Ron. Hermione felt herself flush at the accusation.  _

_ Out of the three of them, Ron was still the most wound up from the aftermath. She understood, he had lost his brother, his family were falling apart and she knew he wanted to stay strong for them. But, in times like this, she wished he was able to control his temper. _

_ ‘No Weasley,’ Malfoy drawled, but there was no malice in it ‘I know it might surprise you, but, for once, I am not asking you to save my skin.’ _

_ ‘What is it you do want?’ Hermione pushed him, ignoring the grunt that Ron had made as he crossed his arms. _

_ ‘When they take me in they are more than likely going to question me. I have a feeling that Kinglsey will be able to control the questioning that happens immediately, but when I go to trial, they will probably approve the use of Veritaserum on me.’ _

_ ‘Malfoy - I will do everything I can to make sure that doesn’t happen!’ Harry said. _

_ ‘I appreciate the gesture, Potter, I do,’ he sighed. ‘But if they don’t grant your request, and they ask me about my service to the Order, there may be some things that come up that you don’t want getting out.’  _

_ ‘Is that a threat Malfoy?’ Ron asked, his fists clenching. At this, Harry turned around and laid a hand on Ron’s chest. Hermione saw the effect it had; he backed down. _

_ ‘Ron, please. We already spoke about this. Surprisingly, I don’t think Malfoy is out to get us.’ _

_ ‘Again, thank you for the gesture,’ Draco smirked. ‘No, it is not a threat. I know sensitive information that I am sure you would want withheld from, not just the public, but the Ministry as well.’ _

_ ‘What do you know?’ Hermione asked, her eyebrows furrowed. _

_ ‘I know about the Horcruxes!’ he said.  _

_ There was a silence as the four young people stood, staring at each other, trying to let the gravity of what he had said sink into them. Harry had brought the Horcruxes up once since the end of the battle, one night after he had awoken to screaming. He had said that he didn’t want anyone to know about them, didn’t want anyone being able to repeat what Voldemort had done. The next morning they had stowed away into the Hogwarts library and Hermione had personally destroyed any book that mentioned them. As Hermione had watched the frail edges of the ancient books disintegrate under their magic, she knew that they would spend all their energy to ensure that this dark magic was kept secret. _

_ ‘How?’ was all Harry asked. _

_ ‘I had my suspicions over my time in the Manor, Voldemort could be heard whispering to that disgusting snake about his precious ties to this world. When I saw the fear in my Aunt’s eyes when she thought you had the sword in your bag, I realised that she must know what he was talking about. When I wasn’t with you at Shell Cottage, I was listening in at doorways and...I found out everything I needed to know.. It was when I saw his reaction to your break in at Gringotts, however, that really confirmed everything.’ He took a deep breath and continued. ‘I want to help keep the secret.’ _

_ ‘You’re right Malfoy - we don’t want anyone else to know. Do you happen to know what Death Eaters were privileged to the information?’ _

_ ‘He didn’t trust anyone but my Aunt. Obviously she is dead now, good riddance, so by my count….us four are the only ones left.’ _

_ ‘What do we do?’ Hermione asked, her voice almost a whisper as she looked around to make sure they weren’t being overheard. _

_ ‘I suggest we make an Unbreakable Vow.’ Draco stated. He said it as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, but Hermione’s breath caught in her throat. _

_ ‘Is that the solution? You really want to play around with those again? Look what happened to Snape and Dumbeldore?’ Harry countered, his face a mixture of shock and outrage. _

_ ‘I know the dangers of it Potter,’ Draco said, his temper rising and his voice along with it. ‘But what other choice do we have? An Unbreakable Vow cannot be tampered with by a simple Veritaserum Potion. It is the only failsafe way we can keep the information out of the hands of the wrong people.’ _

_ ‘The only way?’ Harry asked. ‘We could obliviate you right now.’ _

_ ‘As much as I am sure you would love to do that Potter, I know that the only one of you skilled enough to make that spell work is Granger. And…’ he stopped and looked at her; she felt a blush spread across her cheeks. ‘...I would really like to ask you not to do that. You may not know, but I can be….sentimental….when it comes to some of my memories.’ _

_ ‘I won’t do it Harry.’ she said and he looked at her. ‘You know I can’t make that choice! I already had to once…’ her voice broke a little as she said it and he sighed and nodded. _

_ Hermione continued to look at him, trying to gauge what he was thinking. Hermione knew of the powers of the Unbreakable Vow, knew of it’s dangers. How many wizards and witches had she read of that had died because of their own clumsiness? How many lives had been ruined by others inability to keep their vow? But, Hermione thought as her brain turned over, how many people could take the information and use it just like Voldermort? She realised it could not bear thinking about. _

_ Hermione went to speak but, to her surprise, it was Ron who broke the silence. _

_ ‘I think we have to do it Harry,’ he sighed. ‘Malfoy is right! We can’t let the information get out.’ _

_ Harry nodded and not breaking his eye contact with Draco, spoke to her. ‘Hermione, do you know the spell?’ His voice was quiet and resigned. _

_ She drew her wand and moved into his eye-line, nodding as she held it in the space between them She watched Harry and Draco clasp each other’s wrists and, swallowing, watched the silver chain slide out the end of her wand, binding the two of them together in a secret that would shake the Wizarding World to its core. _

  
  


Ron looked pale as he moved his eyes between the two of them once more. Hermione could see that the both of them were thinking the same thing - if Greyback told anyone about the Horcruxes in his trial, who knows who would be able to get that information. With the little amount of trust she held in the Ministry, a place known for its inability to contain a leak and the place where there is a suspected mole, no matter what weight Harry threw behind it; they would not be able to contain the secret. 

Hermione was flooded with dread as she thought about the public reaction, let alone the private one. The papers would be all over them again, like they had been right at the end of the war. They would all be hauled in for questioning about keeping illicit war secrets away from Ministry officials. But that paled in front of having to admit to the rest of the Order, people that she considered her family, and tell them that they kept something so important away from them. Just like what she had done to her parents; she hated having to lie to her family about it, but knew it was for the best.

‘Are we going to have to pay him another visit?’ Harry asked.

‘Mate, I don’t know how much good it will do? I told you, he can’t talk. Do you want to rifle through his mind?’ 

Hermione shuddered at the thought, what depraved things would they find if they dove into the mind of the animal. Her own experiences with the wolf had taught her that already.

‘I don’t think we could risk it...not if Dawlish is already making secret visits. I mean, who knows who else has been sent to dig around. Who knows if the information is already out there somewhere?’ Harry said, trailing off and sighing. ‘Let’s take this one step at a time. I will look into the Horcrux issue tomorrow at work, right now we are going to have to get back in there before she starts to destroy my furniture.’

When they had made their way back into the drawing room, Pansy was still sitting, more stiffly then she had been before, but her face showed nothing but boredom.

‘Finally stopped arguing about whether I’m worth it or not?’ she asked, a slight hint of a laugh in her voice.

‘As you probably already have been able to surmise Parkinson,’ Harry shot, ignoring the girl's attempts to annoy them. ‘We need to ask you a few questions.’

‘Your office already asked me and I told them everything I know - which was nothing. Do you think I would be walking around if I had something more to say on the matter?’ she barked back, her red lipstick shining against her overly white teeth,

‘But you aren’t walking around, are you?’ Harry asked and Hermione watched as Pansy’s face fell slightly. ‘You are holed up in your house. Some might even say you were hiding.’

‘Hiding?’ she repeated. ‘And what would I have to be hiding from?’

‘Me!’ Hermione said, taking a small step forward, feeling more confident than she had when she had first laid eyes on the girl. Pansy’s head snapped to her, and a small smirk crept to her lips.

‘You, Granger?’ the Slytherin laughed, although Hermione was sure she could hear fear behind the whimpering snicker. ‘I don’t think anyone is afraid of you, mudblood.’

At this, Ron shot forward, his wand drawn, and held it at Pansy's temple. The girls back straightened and, once again, her face fell as she remembered the seriousness of her situation. She seemed to want to say something, opening her mouth a fraction of an inch, but deciding better of it and closing it again.

‘Now, that we have that out of the way, can we continue?’ Hermione asked and waited for a slow nod from the girl. Harry sighed, nodding to Ron, who withdrew his wand but did not move from where he stood behind Pansy.

‘Why have you not left your house since leaving Hogwarts?’ Harry asked.

‘I have no need to, Potter. I have house-elves to do my bidding for me.’

‘Parkinson, your family are well known Purebloods, whose social calendar is filled three years in advance. You expect us to believe that since graduating from Hogwarts, there has been no reason for you to leave your estate?’ there was silence as Pansy pointedly looked away. ‘We thought as much. So tell us, who are you hiding from?’

‘It’s not Granger, that’s for sure,’ she shot at them. ‘No matter what you think of me,’ she said looking at Hermione. ‘There is nothing you can do that will make me scared of you.’

‘What about this?’ Hermione said, her eyebrows shooting up as she threw something in Pansy’s direction. The girl caught it in a closed fist and looked at her in confusion. ‘Go on!’ Hermione urged.

They all watched as Pansy looked down into her hand, opening it to reveal the Silver P Pendant that had come to represent so much to Hermione. With glee, she saw recognition flash across Pany’s face before her features slid back into their former annoyance. 

‘What is this rubbish?’ she asked, looking back up, her mouth hanging open like a listless fish.

‘That rubbish… was attached to the necklace that tried to kill me.‘ she replied. At this Pansy shut her mouth and, again, silence filled the room.

They watched as Pansy spent several minutes taking in the Pendant, looking up at them and then returning to the jewelled piece in her hand. If Hermione had been a betting woman, she would say that Pansy was trying to come up with what to say next and she was sure it would include some sort of plea deal.

‘Look…’ Pansy said, her voice lowered to a little above a whisper, shaky and scared.

‘Miss Parkinson!’ Harry cut across her. ‘Now that you understand what we have on you and how this might play out - you need to tell us everything.’

Pansy closed her mouth and then her eyes slide shut, her head hanging as she sighed. 

‘I’m sorry Draco,’ she whispered. Hermione’s heart jumped into her throat when she heard her speak, but did not have much time to say anything before Pany looked back up, determination in her eyes as she began to talk.

‘’After I returned home last summer - after the battle - my Father started to receive a lot of death threats.’

‘Why?’ Ron asked, moving in front of her. ‘He wasn’t a known Death Eater. Why did he not report it?’

Pansy scoffed at this. ‘He may not have been a servant of the Dark Lord, but my Father was far from innocent Weasley. He has been mixed up in illegal potion dealing for as long as I can remember. He isn't going to take that to your precious department.’

‘Okay, so what happened with the threats?’ Harry pushed on.

‘They got steadily worse over the summer months, some even started to be sent to myself and my Mother. Just before September 1st, my Mother was kidnapped,’ at this Pansy let out a small sob. The trio exchanged shocked looks but did not dare to speak now that the girl in front was so eager to tell them her story.

‘My Father would not go to anyone, refused to report it. The letters were now demanding information and services for the safe return of my mother. My father insisted that he could be of no help to the kidnapper...and that was when a letter arrived suggesting that the favour the arsehole needed was at Hogwarts.’ Pansy screwed up her face in anger. ‘If you have ever met my Father, you will know that he is a spineless pig who would do anything to ensure that he was safe from harm - that courtesy never extended to me - so I was put forward.’ 

‘And what was the job?’ Ron asked, his voice tentative.

‘Break Draco Malfoy,’ she whispered, looking back down at her knees as if she were ashamed. Hermione felt anger spike in her body. She had not realised she had started to walk towards the girl until she felt Harry’s arm across her body, stopping her from moving.

‘Hermione!’ he said in warning. ‘Break him?’

‘My instructions were clear - do anything to make him feel alone and abandoned. Make sure that he is unhappy! If, by the end of the year, the job was done, my mother was to be released.’

‘So what did you do?’ Harry asked.

‘I didn’t do anything. I went to school, ignored him as best as I could. He is...was..my friend. I didn’t want to see him broken again like in Sixth Year. But - on Christmas Day - we received a parcel at the house. My mother’s ears in a box.’

Hermione saw Harry and Ron pale at what they had heard and Hermione felt bile rising in her throat. 

‘After Christmas was when all the attacks started happening,’ Hermione stated.

‘Well done Granger!’ Pansy said, ‘Bright as always. I loved Draco - but I couldn’t let my mother die for him. Unfortunately, after Christmas the prospect of being able to make him unhappy became very difficult.’

‘Why?’

‘Because of you, Granger. Suddenly, the two of you are inseparable! The most unlikely pair falling into each other’s arms. At first, I thought it was a solace thing - you know - two scared kids trying to forget about what had happened. Fucking away their memories. But...then I saw the way he looked at you.’ she sat back in her chair, her eyes misting over as she glanced towards the large window. ‘It was the look I had always wanted. He had never looked at me like that; not as a friend, not as a lover, not even when I took his virginity. It shook me; seeing him lower himself to you. But then again, now I had the perfect person. Hurt you...hurt Draco.’

‘So you did poison Theo?’ Hermione asked.

‘I had been receiving letters from the kidnapper; untraceable before you ask Potter, and I decided to ask for their help. The poison was delivered and I slipped it into Grangers cup. How was I supposed to know that Theo would drink from it, he wasn’t meant to be anywhere near the table. After I failed the first time, the kidnapper started to contact me more frequently. Granger caught me using the floo network not long after.’

‘Floo Network? How could they possibly get past the Hogwarts wards?’ Harry asked. Hermione looked at him and realised that he was trying to piece it all together, trying to find the connections, but Hermione had always been better at puzzles.

‘It’s the leak!’ she said quietly. ‘Isn’t it Parkinson?’

‘Once again showing us your big brains! Yes, I worked out they worked for the Ministry not long after that. But I never saw the same face, they always used glamours but had the same voice each time. He was the one that told me what to do to make the potion explode. I was disillusioned when I came into the dungeon and put the new ingredient into the potion. I wanted to put it in Grangers - but Blaise had been sniffing around and asking questions and I thought that if I got him out of the way for a little while, then I would have free reign over the two of you. He didn’t like that - the kidnapper - he got angry that I was taking so long. The next parcel my father received was one of mother’s fingers, the one with their wedding ring attached. The next day I was sent the spell for the necklace.’

‘But, why would you use your own jewellery?’ Ron asked. ‘Doesn’t it seem a bit stupid?’

‘Of course you would see it that way. The P was a message for Draco - he gave me the necklace as a present a few birthdays ago and he is never one to forget a gift, that much is ingrained in us as children.’

‘You nearly killed Hermione. Was that your plan? To become a murder!’ Harry yelled.

‘I didn’t know, alright?’ Pansy screamed back and then buried her hands over her face. ‘I didn’t know what the spell did, I just used it without thinking!’ she sobbed.

Hermione looked at Harry and could see guilt flooding his face. Hermione knew exactly what he was thinking about. He had been so desperate in that bathroom, desperate to understand what Draco was doing, that he had used a spell that he did not understand and had lived to suffer the consequences. Harry could see through Pansy, could understand her motivation, even if he did not agree with it.

‘I only found out what had happened when he came back to school over the holidays.’ she continued quietly, looking up at them through watery eyes. ‘He confronted me with the pendant, just like I had planned. Part of me was so happy that he has remembered who I was at all; I was so desperate for him to see me again. But he was livid. He told me that Granger was in the hospital and that he knew everything was all my fault, he screamed at me, pushed me against a wall and...and he pointed his wand at my heart. Looking in his eyes, I knew he was going to kill me for what I did and - clearly trying to save your own skin is a Parkinson trait - so I told him everything that was happening. I told him about mother, I told him about the kidnapper and what I had done to meet their wishes. I told him all they wanted was for him to be unhappy.’

‘What did he say?’ Hermione asked, in a voice so tight that she was sure it could cut glass. Pansy looked at her with sad eyes, shook her head and sighed once more.

‘He said that as long as you were safe, Granger, he would do whatever it took to get my mother back.’

At this, Pansy broke down in tears. Hermione thought to herself that this was the Pansy she had expected to turn up today, one that was grieving and lost. But none of them comforted her; Harry and Ron were looking away from her, clearly at a loss for what to say. But Hermione was defiant, she needed to know where it ended.

‘So what, then he sleeps with you to make sure I am safe?’ Hermione scoffed.

Pansy looked up again,.her face covered in wet tear marks and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion,

‘Is that what he told you?’ she asked, another sob escaping her lips. ‘I never lied to you about that. I haven’t slept with Draco for years!’

For the first time since she had arrived home, Hermione turned her back on the Slytherin, trying to compose herself. Bringing her hands up, she pressed the heels of them into her eyes and then scraped them through her unruly hair. She wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to go back and shake herself for even believing what he had told her in the first place. She was angry with herself for not realising sooner; blinded by her own hatred and insecurities to stick by the person who needed her the most.

‘With you out of the picture,’ Pansy muttered, her voice more high pitched than usual. ‘Draco was miserable. My job was done.’

‘Did the kidnapper contact you again?’ Ron asked quietly. 

‘No.’ said Pansy. ‘Two weeks later, at lunchtime, I received a letter from my father saying that my mother had been returned safely - well as safely as she could be without her ears. But - when I went to find Draco, to tell him it was all over...I couldn’t find him anywhere. That was when I went to the Head’s Common room.’

‘So you have no idea where he went or how they got him?’ Harry asked, a sense of panic in his voice.

‘No!’ and she started to cry again. 

Hermione had not turned back to face them, did not want to see the tears that Pansy was crying for no-one but herself. Could not face the sympathetic looks that Ron would give her. She did not want to have to look at Harry and know that he was guilty for not believing her in the first place.

‘Kreacher!’ Harry called again, softly this time. They heard a pop and before he could greet them, Harry spoke once more. ‘Take Pansy back to her house, but do not leave her there alone. I want you to watch her. She is not allowed to leave the residence and you are to send me updates on what she is doing.’ There was a pause in which Hermione assumed that Kreacher had bowed. ‘Pansy, you are not to contact anyone at all. When we have more information on the case - we will contact you.’

There was another silence and then a pop filled the room, telling Hermione that Kreacher and Pansy were now no longer with them.

‘That was a lot,’ Ron said, breaking the uncomfortable silence first. ‘Do you think she was being honest.’

‘Unfortunately, I do. Of course, I can do some checks but...somehow I think this information is going to help us.’ Harry responded.

‘How?’ Ron asked.

‘If we can get to Pansy’s lead, we might be able to find out why Greyback is suddenly a mute.’

Hermione listened to their talking, trying to break down the case as if it was officially theirs to handle. They were trying to look at it from every angle possible. She sighed and it must have caught their attention, as Ron spoke.

‘What do we do now, Hermione?’ Harry asked and she turned to face them, finding their expressions exactly what she had predicted.

‘We go to someone we know we can trust,’ she said simply. Their faces pulled tight and she knew they were trying to cross reference the people they could trust, with who had access to the information they needed. ‘Harry,’ she sighed. ‘You need to go to Dawlish!

* * *

Notes: Hey dear and dedicated readers! I hope that you have enjoyed yet another installment of the story. We are speeding towards the end - I say as I try not to cry! Stay safe everyone and keep those lovely comments and kudos coming my way.


	33. Chapter 33

The days that had passed since they had interrogated Pansy had been filled with an odd sense of calm. Hermione was able to sleep properly for the first time in weeks, masking her wall with a well placed Invisibility spell and turning her back on it . She rose early and went about her daily routine as if they weren’t on the precipice of some great revelation. All three of them sat together at the end of the day and had dinner; sometimes they spoke about Draco, but mostly they just chatted; about school memories, the family, themselves. Harry and Ron stopped creeping around her, stopped feeling guilty for everything they had done, and the three of them started to show affection again; something that Hermione did not realise she was craving.

In reality, Grimmauld Place should have been a whirlwind of activity, a hub of people coming and going with plans for what was to come. Hermione thought that there would be late night conversations and breakthroughs of such a magnitude that it would shake the foundation of the old Edwardian house. But none of that came, and Hermione was surprised by how much she welcomed that. Even though she still despised the girl, it was as if Pansy had given her something that helped her to breathe easy again. Pansy had supplied them with the small amount of hope that she would be able to walk away from this and know she did everything she could to understand the moments leading up to Draco’s death. That she would, hopefully, be able to catch the person most responsible.

It took a few days for Harry to do as she had suggested and take the information to Dawlish, which was how she found herself now, sitting at the kitchen table like so many times before, awaiting his arrival. She was staring into the hearth, waiting for the lime green flames to appear, her heartbeat in her head ridiculously fast, the tension beginning to rise against the calm that had settled.

‘How about,’ Harry said, taking a seat opposite her and placing a cup of tea down. ‘You let me and Ron do the talking. Convince him that Pansy came here of her own volition.’ 

All Hermione could do was nod and then they all heard the flames roar from the fireplace and saw the form of the Senior Auror step onto the flagstones.

‘Evening all,’ he nodded looking at the three of them in turn.

‘Cup of tea Dawlish?’ Ron asked, going to get to his feet, but Dawlish waved him off.

‘No, sorry but I can’t stay long, I have cover tonight for Robards. I just wanted to let you guys know that I tried to take what you said further.’

He looked between them again, his face covered in a guilty look she had learnt too well from being around the boys all the time.

‘What happened?’ Hermione asked.

‘I don’t really know how to tell you this but… I...we....have been told to drop it.’ he said, flattening his eyebrows.

‘WHAT?’ Hermione, Harry and Ron said, leaping to their feet and staring him down like wounded dogs. Even Dawlish had to take a step back from them, blinking rapidly as they breathed down their noses at him.

‘Listen - ‘ he started, holding his hands up like a surrender. ‘If what Harry told me is true, then I am very upset that it happened. Draco and Pansy should never have had to deal with all of that by themselves...but…’

‘But what Dawlish,’ Harry said, hurt evident in his voice. ‘Draco is dead, there is a leak in the Ministry - isn’t that a high priority?’

‘I have been told that the Ministry is sorry for what happened to Draco, he was one of the Order and a war hero and they want to honour him for the way in which he helped and fought for good. But at this point, the Ministry are on a win; they have Greyback - the last big player. They are concerned that if we keep going, they may find something...unsavoury...about Draco and the last thing they need is another blow up with the papers.’

‘So the Ministry is saving face rather than investigating a crime?’ Ron argued, his ears a vibrant shade of red.

‘Unfortunately, yes Weasley, that is exactly what they are doing. I tried to fight it, I argued the same points you have but when you have been in the job as long as I have - you start to learn they will do just about anything to save their own necks...even if it means giving up one of their own ‘for the greater good’’.

Hermione shook at the phrasung he used, the memories of the Forest of Dean sprung to her like wildfire. The images of betrayal were as clear in her mind now, as they had been in Harry’s then. How can you fight and almost die for the hope of a better world, when that world chews up your hope and kills it with the power that it has?

‘Who was it?’ Hermione asked, her voice so low that she wondered if it would crack from the effort.

‘What do you mean?’ Ron asked, suddenly confused.

‘Who did you take it to? Robards?’ she repeated, her voice getting louder.

‘Robards isn’t allowed near this case, Hermione - Auror’s orders. There are only a select few of us who are allowed within 10 feet of it. Look,’ he said, pulling out an old pocket watch. ‘I have to go or I am going to be late for my watch. Hermione,’ he said, looking directly into her eyes and Hermione could feel his grief wash over her. ‘I am so sorry I can’t be of more help.’

With a final glance around the stone flagged room, he turned and stepped back into the fireplace, leaving the three of them alone. The peace and calm from before his arrival was gone, the tension so thick that it could be seen pounding between their magic, electric in nature. Hermione sunk back into her chair, her hands covering her face, breathing in the scent of her own skin. Her mind was racing with what Dawlish had said, and what it meant for them. This would mean a dead-end; she had only wanted to get Dawlish involved because he had connections within the Ministry that none of them could flaunt without attracting serious attention. But she knew it would be unfair to push him, risking his reputation for something they had strictly been told to let go.

But how could she let go? How could she let it lie?

‘How much more do we have to give up for these people?’ she finally said, looking up at the other two, tears forming in her eyes. She tried to breathe deeply, determined not to let them fall down her cheeks.

‘What do you mean, Hermione?’ Harry asked softly, perching in front of her.

‘Anyone else would be given every opportunity to find the killer of the person they loved. I loved him, Harry...and he is gone...and I can’t do anything to make sure he can rest in peace, knowing his murderer and all those that plotted it are behind bars…’

Harry took her hands in his, gently circling his thumbs over the back of her of them. He looked at her gently as she felt Ron come to stand close by.

‘We know you loved him. We loved that you love him too. We love that you have tried everything you possibly could...’

‘What was the point in fighting the war, Harry. If the Ministry only cares about its image - how can we possibly be okay with fighting for a world like that?’

This seemed to get to Harry, as she could see the tears forming in his eyes. Had he been wondering the very same thing? Harry was the one who had actually died to save them, had risked it all for a better world.

They didn’t speak for a long time, the unspoken communication between them telling her that Harry agreed with everything she had said. Behind her, Ron fidgeted around the room; cleaning up cups and plates from dinner. It wasn’t until all the noise stopped that she turned around to see Ron looking at the ceiling, his face furrowed in deep concentration. Without a word, he left the room and vaulted up the stairs. Hermione could hear his heavy feet pouding across the room above them - her room. Turning back to Harry, he was now standing and she rose to meet him. 

They didn’t say anything as they followed Ron’s path up the old stairs, past the places where the house-elf heads used to be, overstepping the creaks they knew like the back of their hands. Hermione entered her room behind Harry and rounding the door, saw something that made her furrow her eyebrows just like Ron. He was sat on the the edge of her bed, staring at the wall which he had revealed. His eyes were intense, focussed on the moving images of the Ministry members.

‘Ron, love,’ Harry said in a small voice. ‘What wrong?’

‘There is only one person….’ was all he said in reply, his voice soft and far away as if he couldn’t believe what he was saying.

‘One person what?’ Harry asked, at this Ron seemed to snap out of his daze and looked at Harry, the fire that had been simmering in his eyes was now bright and furious. It shook Hermione, realising that she had only seen the fire this bright in him less than a handful of times in their friendship.

‘This case is only for a limited number of people, right? So, Dawlish could have only gone to one person above him.’

‘Right…?’ said Harry slowly, it was clear he was having trouble understanding where Ron was going with this. But Hermione, her heart started to thump louder and the hairs on the back of her neck started to prickle uncomfortably as she, once again, stared at the wall that had been a source of angst and hurt for so long.

‘Harry - there is only one person above Robards to take it to,’ Ron said, his voice hard and tense.

If Hermione had stayed long enough, she would have seen the moment the penny dropped for Harry. She would have seen him swing around to face her in the hope that he could grab her before she did anything stupid. As it was, Harry turned around to see nothing but an empty room and hopelessly shouted after her, his voice thick with emotion.

Before she could even breathe, Hermione had rushed down the stairs and out of the front door of the house, tearing across the street and into the secluded garden square opposite Grimmauld Place. Turning on the spot, she reappeared in the vast atrium of the Ministry of Magic and set off at a fast walk through the abandoned hall.

Hermione did not expect to see anyone, it was late after all, but there were a few officials milling around the place. She did not use the visitors entrance or check herself in at the visitors desk, but no one stopped her as she marched past them; being a war-hero did have some advantages. Her footsteps echoed against the green tile as she strode past the empty fountain. Hermione felt the bitterness rise within her, thinking of the past two fountain designs and knowing that whatever went there next would not display the equality she had so wished to fight for. 

Storming through, she realised how different her life had become from the one she had imagined for herself. As soon as she had realised the plight of magical creatures, she had wanted to do everything in her power to change it. She had been a first hand witness to the struggle that faced half-breeds and house-elves. No matter how much Harry and Ron had made fun of her, she understood that making the lives of others better, was more worthwhile than anything else. And even when times were at their darkest, when she was stuck in the tent in the middle of nowhere, when she wondered if all hopes of winning the war was lost; she had dreamed about her goal. Now, her mind was so far from that it was almost laughable. Even when this was all over, she thought to herself, she did not want to work in a place where the people in power were as corrupt as the evil they had tried to overcome.

When she reached the carpeted hallways of the Ministry offices, she became more aware of the silence surrounding her. She had visited this area of the Ministry twice in her lifetime; the first, after they had returned from the two weeks at Hogwarts following the battle and second, to reject the offer of joining the Auror Department on an early admission scheme. It was overbearing; everything covered in burnished gold and a deep purple and the further into the offices she moved, the more decorative it became. 

As she reached his door, she was surprised that his secretary was not there to stop her. She stood, staring at the dark oak door for at least a minute, contemplating what would happen when she reached the other side of it. She tried to think of Gryffindor bravery and of Draco; what he would say to her in that moment. But all she could think was that this moment was going to change her life and whether it was for good or bad, she did not know.

She took a deep breath and, without knocking, turned the handle, stepping through the door and closing it behind her. 

‘Miss Granger?’ came the confused voice from behind her. She slowly turned, looking the man behind a large mahogany desk in the eye.

‘Good Evening, Minister.’ she replied. Her voice was shaking as she said it, she had not realised but her hands were shaking too. Kingsleys face was still shrouded in confusion as he regarded her.

‘Hermione - what’s going on?’ he asked, his tone deeper than he would usually use. Perhaps, she thought, he could see the fear in her eyes as she decided what she needed to say to him. Maybe he knew why she was here all along.

‘I am very sorry Minister,’ she said quietly, her jaw shaking, continuing to betray her.

‘Did we have an appointment Hermione?’ he asked, his eyebrows furrowed as he took in her state. She breathed deep, trying to contain the ball of rage that had settled in her stomach as she looked at him, a man that she should have been able to trust.

‘No Minister, but I need to ask you something.’

Kingsley did not reply and Hermione could not break through the lump in her throat for the question to come out. She stood, still before the door and cast a wordless locking charm. She knew, however, that he would have been able to feel the magic erupt across the office and his face dropped before her.

‘And the reason you have locked the door, Hermione? Do you not want us to be interrupted?’

Again, there was a silence between the two Order members and she swallowed the lump, feeling it slide to join the ball that had begun to pulse the longer she looked at him.

‘What happened to Draco?’ she asked, in little more than whisper, her eyes fixed and hard.

‘Draco?...Miss Granger I am not sure I understand your meaning.’

‘What happened to Draco?’ she repeated, talking a slight step forward and pulling back her shoulder.

It was, at this moment, that Kingsley sighed deeply and joined his hands in front of him. His face softened before her, giving him the impression of a caring father. His tone of voice when he next spoke eluded to the fact that that was what he was trying to be.

‘Hermione,’ his voice was soft. ‘You were there, you saw what happened to our dear friend.’

‘Friend?’ she said, through gritted teeth.

‘And I am sure that this...this hold up in the case had affected you. I can understand that his loss has, of course, hit you harder than the rest of the order. But…’

‘You understand Kingsley?’ she shouted at him. ‘You have no idea what I feel or what I know.’

‘Pain is a horrible thing, Hermione and…’

At this, her rage bubble burst, and Hermione could feel her magic erupt from within her sending electric sparks to the tips of her fingers and the ends of her wild hair. Before Kingsley could react, she flung her wand up and pointed it at him. ‘Expelliarmus!’ she shouted, and watched his wand fly through towards her. Extending her arm, she caught it just as Kingsley leapt to his feet, his features the image of shock and betrayal.

‘Hermione!’ he shouted. ‘What are you doing?’

Hermione drew herself up to full height, breathing heavy and walking toward him with a dangerous gait.

‘Miss Granger,’ Kingsley said, and Hermione noticed that his voice had returned to that of authority. ‘Need I remind you that you have just disarmed the Minister for Magic and…’

‘WHAT HAPPENED TO DRACO?’ 

‘Hermione - I have no idea what you are insinuating but this is…’

‘IMPEDIM-’ she had started, her eyes large and wild.

‘REDUCTO!’ she heard, screamed from somewhere in the distance, and she was thrown from her feet, landing 2 metres away. Her ears were ringing as she stared at the blurry paisley images on the carpet an inch away from her face.

‘Minister, I’m sorry...we…’ she heard stuttering voices somewhere to her left and scrunched her eyes closed at the pain that erupted across her forehead.

‘Potter!’ Kinglsey shouted, as Hermione distinctly heard the reparo of the door and the lock being reinstated. ‘What is the meaning of this.’

Hermione felt a hand on her lower back and another slip into her right hand, trying to pull her up.

‘You have to get up for me, Hermione,’ came the soothing voice of Ron in her ear and, fighting the pain in her head, she lifted herself on trembling legs with his help. As she straightened up, Ron placed one arm around her waist, supporting her against him to stop her dangerously swaying. She looked around the Ministers office, taking in the sight before her.

There were scorch marks on the antique carpet spreading from the door that had recently been repaired and it was littered with scraps of old wood. She could still see Kinglsey’s wand on the floor a little way in front of her and Harry stood, his own wand raised, pointed at the Ministers face. 

‘Harry - what is happening!’ Kingsley roared, his hands in the air.

She tried to move forwards but was stopped by Ron’s arms still around her.

‘Stay here, Hermione,’ he whispered in her ears. ‘You hurt your head!’

‘Minister - I apologise but we need to speak to you!’ Harry spoke, his voice unlike anything she had heard before. Kingsley let his hands drop and his eyes moved to Hermione.

‘Am I to assume that this is to do with Mr Malfoy?’ 

There was a palpable energy in the room; Hermione could feel the tension surrounding her. From Harry’s deafening glare on the Minister, to the grip of Ron’s fingers on her hip bone; it made her tremble.

‘Minister. Why have you stopped the investigation into Draco’s death?’

‘Stopped?’ Kingsleys face screwed up in confusion. ‘I have not stopped any investigation!’

‘But….’ Ron started but was cut off by the Minister’s hand flying into the air in frustration.

‘I was just telling Hermione that it is a shame that the trial is taking such a long time to push through.’

‘That’s down to you Minister. In training they made it clear that you have the final say in large criminal cases being brought to trial.’ Harry argued. Hermione noticed that he also looked confused. Hermione, however, had started to gain what little strength she had left as the ringing in her ears died down. She began to struggle slightly against Ron’s forearm and felt him sigh into her shoulder.

‘Potter - that is not down to me. Look,’ he said, picking up parchment from his desk and shoving it into Harry’s empty hand. ‘Here is the paperwork. If you will look at the notes section you will find…’

‘...unwilling to commit to questioning…’ Harry read in a drawn voice. ‘...willing to go to trial with minimal evidence and silent witness...approved mission to acquire evidence will hold up trial...Sir, what mission?’

‘You know Auror protocol Potter! Cases cannot be discussed!’

‘But Sir!,’ Ron finally snapped out of his reverie behind her and stepped forwards. ‘It’s our case. We are the ones that brought him in and did the paperwork - we are allowed to know!’

‘Weasley! Are you trying to make me believe that you did not know that the case had been reassigned?’ Kingsley now shouted at them.

‘Reassigned?’ Hermione finally spoke and the three men’s heads turned towards her. Kingsley had a flare of anger in his eyes towards her, but softened when he went to speak again.

‘About a month ago I received the paperwork across by desk for final signing. It declared that the both of you wanted to hand the case over as a conflict of interest, all the signatures were there - I thought it the right more...I think I still do looking at the three of you right now - ‘

‘But wouldn’t you need Harry and Ron’s signatures for that?’ Hermione asked.

Ron moved forwards and took yet another piece of parchment from out of Kingsleys hand. 

‘And he had them…’ his voice sounded distant as he passed the paper to Harry who threw it back to Kinglsey with disgust.

‘Bullshit!’ he shouted. ‘This isn’t even our handwriting! Minister - someone has forged our signatures to get us off the case!’

‘And that is a bad thing because…’

‘Minister...Kinglsey…’ Hermione sighed moving forwards to the desk. She was suddenly filled with regret as something became clear in her mind. The person that she had suspected for so long appeared to be a pawn in this game as well as she was. ‘The reason I came in here tonight and...made...well- unforgivable choice,’ she said, a faint blush rising on her cheeks. ‘Is that we were led to believe that you were involved in the Draco’s death.’

There was a silence as Kingsley looked between the three of them, his jaw slack as he took in the news. He stumbled back slightly and sat in his chair with a heavy slump, looking off into the distance. Hermione wondered what was going through his mind as he took in the information.

‘You know,’ he muttered when he finally worked up the courage to speak. ‘They tell you that political office will throw many things your way but...I didn’t take any notice of the people that said it. I thought - clearly blindsided by my position in the war - that I could face anything with the amount of allies I have accrued. Clearly not!’ he finished, bitterly.

‘Sir,’ said Harry, in a low voice, and proceeded to tell Kinglsey everything they had known. After a while, he lost his thread and Hermione picked up to explain what had happened when they went to Azkaban and her suspicions about him.

‘Kingsley - this goes deeper than I think we originally realised’ Ron finished and Kingsley's face became stern.

‘I want someone to go and collect Greyback and bring him here, place him in a holding room.’ Hermione’s heart leapt into her throat at these words. It was as if everything she had gone through had led to this, for someone to take action and understand.

‘Who shall we ask to get him, Sir?’ Ron asked quickly.

‘You will go Weasley. I don’t want anyone else knowing about this yet. We cannot risk another leak of information.

Ron nodded and turned, marching out of the office with a final squeeze of Hermione’s hand.

‘Potter - can you go and ensure a holding room is ready for when he gets here - I don’t want an escape or an attack. We cannot rule out that this is what Greyback has been vying for all along.’

Harry nodded and left as well, but not before meeting Hermione’s eyes and giving her a look that told her to remain calm.

‘Miss Granger…’ Kingsley began, but Hermione interrupted him.

‘Kinglsey - I am really sorry!’ she blurted, unable to keep all her emotions in check and hanging her head in an overwhelming fit of shame. ‘I understand if you will have to reprimand me for this or - question me about my conduct. I will deserve it.’

‘Hermione, it is there that I cannot agree with you,’ he spoke and Hermione’s head shot up and met his kind face. ‘You did what you needed to to find out about this case. I agree, that had you been on the Auror team, you would have been suspended but...you are not. My offer from last year still stands for you. If anything - this has shown me how much the department needs someone like you.’

In all of her wildest dreams, as she had stood outside of his office not 20 minutes ago, could she have imagined that this was how the conversation with the Minister of Magic would end. She had been feverishly imagining magical restraints and shouted words that would have probably ended in a trial - she had seen the headline clear as day ‘The Brightest Witch of her Age Caught the Minister Dumb’ and ‘Trial of the Century: The Golden Girl Charged.’ But here she stood, being offered a job. She could not help the small leap that her chest made as she thought about it; working with Harry and Ron, putting the past behind her, fighting crime. A small thought niggled at the back of her mind, trying to be heard over the excitement; if she joined the Auror’s, what would happen to all those creatures you had wanted to save. She did not have a moment to dwell on either emotions, however, as Harry came back to the office.

‘Minister, the room is ready and I just received Ron’s Patronus to say he had filled out the paperwork and that he is about to leave Azkaban.’

‘Thank you, Potter.’

‘Sir - what are you hoping to get out of Greyback? We know that he cannot speak.’

‘Can not and will not are two different things entirely. And even if it is the former, I have a suspicion that the longer we hold him, the more the story will unravel.’

Hermione had only ever visited the Auror office on the night that Draco died. She had been ushered quickly into Harry’s office and then quickly away again, leaving her unable to look around at the place she had surreptitiously been offered a position. In the early evening, it was as silent as the corridors above but had a haphazard air about it. The layout was the same as above, but all the office doors remained opened; Hermione could see their notice boards covered in posters and pins, reminding her of her own bedroom wall. Each desk was piled high with overflowing paperwork and discarded interdepartmental memos and the carpet was well worn, as if the years of fast walking and leaping to a break through on a case had affected its stability. As they reached Harry’s office once more, Ron rounded the corner at the far end of the corridor and the look on his face did not fill her with confidence.

‘What’s wrong?’ Hermione asked him before anyone else could speak.

‘Did Greyback do something?’ Harry asked.

‘I wish he had. He cowered away from me and refused to come, eventually I had to stun him and levitate him out of the damn place.’

‘Did the guard help? Hawkins?’

‘He wasn’t there; the guy told me he was on his break,’ he sighed and turned to Kingsley. ‘I have placed him in room 2.11 sir.’

With that, Harry and Kingsley walked away, Hermione had tried to follow but a simple look from Harry had insisted that she remain. She shifted her feet nervously, the feeling of dread returning to her as she stood before Ron, the silence between them oppressive.

‘We are going to work this out,’ he said finally.

‘And if we don’t?’

‘I know it’s been a long road, but I can feel it this time - we are close.’

‘All I can feel is terror, Ron. This could just be another wild goose chase, running after dead-end clues and forged signatures,’ she sighed.

She watched Ron pull a piece of parchment out of his pocket and unfold it, she noticed that it was the documents with their faked signatures. She furrowed her eyebrows at him, wondering why he had taken it, when he turned on his heel and passed her down the corridor.

‘Where are you going?’ she asked, whirling herself around and following at his heels. 

‘I just need to check something,’ he sighed as she ducked into the first office they came to. Hermione rounded in after him and she saw him picking up the top file on the almost toppling pile on the desk. 

‘You want to compare?’ she asked him.

‘Look,’ he sighed, his hands falling to his sides. ‘I want to trust the people I work with. This team has been nothing but dedicated and hard-working since we started here. I don’t want to suspect any of them of anything...but I just can’t shake the feeling that someone is out to get us...or hide something. Who else but an Auror would have been able to forge these documents?’

Hermione did not answer this question; she had been thinking that it must have been someone in the department when she first saw them, but had not wanted to anger the boys; she understood how protective of the department they were. She watched Ron compare paper, sigh and leave the room. She followed him to six different offices, all resulting in the same sigh and a short walk to the next office. It was in the seventh office that something caught Hermione’s eye - a poster on the noticeboard. It was the blonde hair that had caught her eye at first, then she had been drawn to the pointed chin and the dull grey eyes of Lucius Malfoy.

‘Ron, whose office is this?’

‘Pearson,’ he replied without looking up, as he searched for handwritten paperwork.

‘Why does Pearson have a poster of Lucius Malfoy? I thought you were only investigating active DE’s?’

It was then that Ron looked up, his eyes meeting Hermione’s and then slowly moving to the sneering face of the Malfoy elder. She saw his eyebrow quirk.

‘I guess he just never took it down. Pearson was one of the Auror’s who worked on the mass breakout during our sixth-year - when Malfoy escaped.’ 

Ron returned to his searching, appearing to have found a parchment, and held it up to the light. But Hermione could not draw her eyes away from Draco’s father as she was once again hit by the many memories of him and engulfed in the notion that they were so very similar in looks that it was haunting. She remembered his bow to her in the prison only a few days before and, without having a reason to, she reached out her hand and plucked the poster from the board. The parchment was thick and heavy in her fingertips, the corners curling from age.

‘Hermione, what’s that?’ Ron asked her.

‘The poster. You just saw me…’ she was agitated that, once again, he had not really been paying attention to her. She looked up at him, prepared to snipe at him for it, but stopped when he saw her reading something on the back on the poster. 

She turned it over and felt all the heat drain from her body as she looked at another blonde paired, chisel jawed face. Only this time, he was not grimy or in chains, but well kept and clean, walking down the streets of Hogsmeade, hand in hand with someone who was out of frame. But she did not have to see their face to know that she would be looking at her own reflection. She knew this picture - it had come from the Daily Prophet.

‘Why is Draco on a wanted poster?’ she asked, in a low and dangerous voice.

‘I have never seen that before!’ Ron replied quickly. ‘Do you think it’s an old mock up from just after Dumbledore died?’

‘This picture,’ she jabbed her finger on it. ‘This picture was taken last year.’ she could hear her voice rising. ‘How could it be a mock up from over two years ago when he is holding my hand?’ she all but shouted at him. He rounded the desk and tore it from her hand, his eyes scanning the poster more closely and stopping over the small handwritten notes that were around the edges. 

‘Pearson?’ Ron almost moaned at the parchment, his eyes falling shut and his chest collapsing under him.

‘Ron?’ she asked, in a small voice, afraid of what he was going to say. His eyes met hers and she realised they were full of anguish.

‘This writing…’ he said, swallowing hard. ‘It’s the same.’

‘But why would he? He’s Dawlish’s partner, how would he be able to do anything under his nose?’ she asked.

‘We need to take this to Kingsley,’ was all Ron said as he moved past her and out of the door.

Once again, she found herself following Ron down the corridor, the nervous bubble threatening to explode with every step that they took towards 2.11. She hoped beyond anything that she did not have to step into the room, did not have to see Greyback cowering once again in the corner of a dimly lit room. As she turned the corner hot on Ron’s heels, however, that thought flew from her mind as she saw Harry.

He was almost falling out of, what she assumed to be, room 2.11, his hands out in front of him to catch himself on the opposite wall. She frowned, panic spreading through her as he began to retch, breathing heavily.

‘Harry?’ Ron shouted, his voice laced with fear as he sped up to reach him, but Harry quickly looked, his eyes reflecting the fear she heard and shaking his head.

‘No! Ron! Don’t!’

This made Ron stop abruptly, causing Hermione to bump into his back. She moved to his side to see Harry’s eyes wider than she had ever seen him, his hands out in front stopping them from moving any further. His body gave an almighty lurch again as he stopped himself from throwing up.

‘Harry, what’s wrong?’ Rn pushed in a terrified voice. But Hermione was not listening for an answer from Harry as she could hear Kingsleys voice, matched in fear and terror, from the door beyond.

‘How? What happened? HOW?’

‘What did you find out, Harry?’ but all Harry could do was moan and shake his head.

‘You can’t go in there, Hermione,’ he said, trying to be heard over the repeated questions pouring from Kingley’s mouth.

If Hermione were to think back, the next few moments seemed to take a lifetime, when in reality they were over faster than a speeding dragon, and her life irrevocably changed. She felt Ron’s hand grasp her shoulder in an attempt to wheel her away. Initially, she let him lead, her body turning as her eyes remained fixed on Harry’s pale and alarming face. It was this that made her stop. When had she seen Harry like this before? This was a boy who she had watched walk through black fire, face 100 dementors, face Voldemort countless times while still a child. He had even walked into his own death - and never had she seen this look on his face. It told her he was frightened - but not for himself.

Without taking time to think about her actions, or pause to weigh up what seeing inside that room would do to her, she pulled out her wand and the two boys shot away from her in a surge of non-verbal magic. She pushed towards the room, an invisible force pulling her there while both Harry and Ron recovered quickly and attempted to pull her back. She could vaguely hear her own voice as she fought against their hands; screaming to let her see inside, telling them to let her be, swearing at them for holding her back. Another surge of magic and they were off her once more as her hand landed on the door jam. Breathing heavily, she looked up and met the eyes of Kingsley Shacklebolt, a defiance and confusion in them that she could not place. It was only then that her eyes moved to the corner of the room, the corner where she knew Greyback would be - his sunken eyes staring at her from underneath . But it was not the sunken eyes of a werewolf that met hers.

She felt her knees give way and a scream echoed from somewhere far away as Kingsley leapt forwards to catch her. She was unable to tear her eyes away from the electric grey ones transfixed on her as she clawed at Kingsley. He lifted her and pushed her into the arms of someone who had come up behind her, dragging her from the room as she began to scream and retch, desperate to get away but unwilling to leave him.

‘Hermione! Please!’ Harry struggled behind her as she fought him with everything she had. 

‘What’s going on? Why was my prisoner removed?’ came a voice from down the corridor.

Everything came upon her at once; her brown eyes met the suddenly terrified grey eyes of the fiercely trembling man in the corner, she stopped fighting Harry and he dropped her to her feet. As she stared at him with tears now streaming down her face the questions blew into her mind like a fierce wind; who led the team against Greyback? Who took Greyback to Azkaban? Who pushed them back every step of the way? Who had access to all the files? Who is Pearson’s partner?

‘Is anyone going to fucking answer me?’ shouted the voice again.

Hermione tore out of the room and ran towards Dawlish, her wand drawn and she sent a stunner at him, which he dodged, throwing up a powerful shield charm.

‘What the fuck Granger? Stop her!’ he shouted at her onslaught of curses.

‘HERMIONE!’ Ron screamed as she grabbed hold of her.

‘IT’S HIM! IT’S HIM!’ she yelled as she shot another stunner, praying that this time it met its mark. Harry and Ron now had hold of both of her arms and, for the fourth time that night, she was straining against them screaming.

‘What’s got into her?’ Dawlish’s wide eyed face came in front of her, but she could see the fear he was trying to hide. She knew the truth and she would never stop until she had told everyone. She looked deep into Harry’s eyes as she battled against him.

‘Harry, it’s him! You have to believe me! Think about everything we know - who had access to everything?’ swinging her head around to Ron. ‘It’s him - he did this - he got Greyback and…’

Suddenly there was a flash of red, a pain in her chest and everything went black.

* * *

Notes: My dearest apologies for this chapter being so late. I have been working towards this for so long that actually putting pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard) was so much more difficult then I had anticipated. I have wanted to get to this moment since I started writing and realised that this was NOT going to be the cute fluff fic that I originally dreamed about. I hope you all enjoy it. If you liked it please Kudos and comment when you want :)


	34. Chapter 34

The first thing that Hermione became conscious of was the overwhelming pain in the middle of her chest. She had been expecting it, somehow, in the depths of a forced sleep, that the pain would hit her as soon as she woke up, but she had underestimated the force of it. Her eyes still closed, her breathing ragged and forced, she could feel the pain leaching and spreading out like a poison. She realised that her whole body was heavy, falling into starched and itchy sheets that surrounded her body like a coffin. She knew without having to open her eyes that she was in the hospital, the smell was far too familiar to be anything else.

The second thing that she noticed, after her initial senses had familiarised themselves with the pain, was the lowered voices around her. They were panicked, thick with emotion and forced as they spoke quickly. The speakers were close by, mere feet from where she lay, but they sounded much further as she attempted to concentrate over the embers of agony that plagued her. Trying to ignore the overwhelming burn that was threatening to engulf her and pull her once more into sleep, she listened closely.

‘Harry, she’s not going to be strong enough,’ the whispered voice of Ron rang out.

‘You don’t think that as soon as she opens her eyes she's going to ask about him?’ Harry shot back. ‘She isn’t stupid, we can’t treat her like that - I tried telling Kingsley but he just said it wasn’t for her to know what’s going on!’

‘We don’t even know what’s going on! It’s a shit show!’

‘Kinglsey said he would be by later today to have another look at him. Then…’

‘He isn’t a medical professional, love. The Healer’s have no idea why he cannot speak and...it’s just going to upset her even more. Harry - even I can’t look at him! He’s...it’s just….it’s awful’

Ron’s voice broke as he tried to speak. Hermione heard shuffling and then a muffled sound coming from somewhere near the end of her bed. Even with her eyes closed she knew that Harry had taken Ron in his arms, had tried to stifle the pain he was feeling, tried to calm him down. It made her feel so terrifyingly lonely that, had she had the energy, she might have cried. Was she going to be able to hold him?

Ron’s voice, the fear and regret, terrified her more than the pain radiating through her, it brought to mind those desperate moments of the war into her mind's eye. Unwilling to listen along anymore, she slowly opened her eyes. They were heavy with sleep, like the rest of her useless body and the white light that met her was blinding. She tried to lift her hand, wanting so much to rub her chest better, but found it heavy and slow. Before it could make contact with its desired location, Harry’s face came into view and his hand covered hers.

‘You can’t touch it,’ he said, softly pushing her hand back to the bed. He sounded tired, he looked even worse. His hair was wild, probably from hours of foul treatment as his own hands tore through it. His eyes were bloodshot and so brightly green that she was sure he had been crying, the bruises on his jaw and cheekbone gave away even more.

‘You received a very powerful stunning and stinging jinx to the chest. You will make a full recovery, you just need a little rest and time.’

The third, and most devastating thing that Hermione noticed as she became aware of her surroundings was that she could not see him anywhere. From her angle on the hard pillows, she could not make out anyone else out in the room, could not hear the breaths of a fourth figure, could not feel him nearby. Harry smiled down at her, his eyes turning up at the corners; a hint to the kindness he was trying to show while making her aware that these were orders to be followed. Hermione groaned and blinked slowly, craning her neck around to see whether she had missed the extra bed she had hoped to see, while Harry’s hand left hers and stroked through her hair and cupped her face. 

‘Two visits to St Mungo’s this year,’ he joked, an awful attempt at trying to lighten the mood. ‘You are currently beating me!’

Hermione did not feel like laughing along. There was something fundamentally wrong about the way he was talking to her but her tired brain could not pinpoint what it was, what it was he was hiding from her. She gave a deep sigh and tried to lift herself up on her elbows to see through the half open door, thinking that maybe they had placed him in an adjacent room, but she regretted it instantly. It took her another few minutes to catch her breath and return to her usual breathing pattern, slumping back on the bed with a whimper that wracked her ribs like an explosion. As he watched her struggle, Harry’s face faltered and she saw his eyes fill with tears. It was then that Ron appeared on her other side, blocking the door from view and taking her hand in his.

If she had thought that Harry looked tired, it was nothing compared to the sheer lack of rest in Ron’s face. Harry might have been able to get away with his tears, but Ron’s face was streaked with dried tear marks as if they had clearly fallen through dirt and ash. His hair hung limp against his ears and stuck up at odd angles at the back. Just like Harry, he was sporting a lovely set of dark purple bruises, his set high above his eyebrow and along his chin.

‘Where is he?’ she asked, finding her voice at last. She was shocked at how broken she sounded, like her voice was inches from giving up now that it could see the finish line in sight. It was as if her voice thought everything was happening all over again, that Scotland was happening all over again.

‘In another room,’ he replied simply, as if that would be enough for her. Ron avoided making eye contact, tried to turn his head away to let her know that she would get nothing more from him.

‘But…’ she tried to sit up again, wanting to go to him, to see him, to know if it was all real. But Ron gently put his hand on her shoulder and stopped her with a smile and the small shake of her head. Didn’t he understand? She had to know!

‘He is safe,’ Harry said and, despite the furious look that Ron shot at him he continued to explain. ‘We are still trying to work out what happened!’

Panic flared inside her like an uncontrollable fire, tearing at her stomach. How could he be safe when there was someone out there trying to get him? How could anyone but her protect him anymore? She tried to express her thoughts, tried to gather the strength she needed to tell them, but hardly anything came out.

‘But Dawlish…’ she whimpered again, wanting them to understand.

‘He’s being held, Hermione….until more information comes to light,’ said Harry. Although he was looking at her, and giving her more information than she knew Ron would, she could tell he was choosing his words carefully and not letting on more than he was allowed.

‘So...he’s not...he can’t...’

‘He can’t get at him,’ finished Ron, sighing and hanging his head ‘Hermione, we promise to come back and see you later but - right now you really need to rest. The quicker you heal, the quicker you can see him.’

The fire that had erupted within her had been temporarily doused by the knowledge that Dawlish was being held somewhere. She thought about him; the man that they had trusted with their lives, had let into their homes, had fought with them against the greatest evil of the century. She wanted to scream at him, to hurt him - to make him hurt the way that he had made her hurt. But Ron had known what to say, knew how to calm her, knew which incentive to give her to make sure she rested like the Healers had ordered, and the thoughts of Dawlish melted away into the background. With her hands held tightly by her best friends, she closed her eyes and sunk back into the black abyss, warm in the knowledge that every minute of sleep was a minute closer to him.

  
  


When she awoke again, the bright light of day had been replaced by the soft yellowish evening glow of the hospital lamps. The pain in her chest remained, but dulled to that of a slow ache and the rasp in her breathing had been replaced by an unusual tightness, as if someone had wrapped an elastic band around her. The tightness made it clear that healing was something she could still do. The room was silent, only the distant thrum of the hospital beyond the, now closed, doors could be heard. She found it oddly comforting as she stared at the white ceiling, that there were people still moving forwards, still working. She imagined that the sounds were the people working on him, healing him, making sure he wasn’t alone.

A tidal wave of guilt flew over her, one that Harry and Ron had managed to keep at bay when they were here before. Now, without their words and comfort, her mind was fixated on him like an earworm. She had been able to try to move on with her life, able to finish school the way she wanted, investigate and keep moving forward just like the people in the corridor outside her hospital room. But he had not, for all she knew he had been there the whole time, wasting away in the cold dungeonous prison like a criminal. How had he survived? How had he been able to live - to look at her when she visited and know that she may have never come back for him? It was all too much and a small sob escaped her lips.

‘You’re awake,' a voice from her right said.

Unlike her last visit to St Mungo’s, Hermione noticed that her room did not have any windows and so, for a few moments, she thought the shadowed figure to her right was a cause of the light flickering up the white walls. It was not until the shadow spoke that she turned her head in shock and took in the person sitting there.

His dark hair and piercing green eyes could have been that of her best friend, but she knew from the way in which his leg was crossed over his knee, the way he held himself as if he were destined for great things and the way he looked at her with a mixture of pity and guilt that this was not Harry Potter.

‘How long have you been here, Theo?’ she asked, her whispered voice less hoarse than it had been hours ago. 

‘About an hour. I came to...to see...well…’ he was trying to find the words, but she was sure she would not fare much better. No matter how regal he could appear, his haughty Slytherin genes dripping off his appearance like water off a duck's back, his voice always showed his true self. The anguish, the uncertainty, the fear - it was always Theo’s downfall.

‘Potter message me,’ he added in a way of explanation.

Hermione gave a small nod and they fell into silence as she took him in. She had not seen him since that night, the night she had left him curled over the edge of his own bed, sobbing into his hands about what they had done. The stone at the bottom of her stomach seemed to weigh heavy on her, threatening to pull her straight through the mattress to the unforgiving floor below, as he smiled and took her hand in his, the tidal wave of guilt taking her once more, pulling her further away from the safety of the shore she had tried to swim towards. She was back in a tumultuous ocean, screaming for him, screaming for Theo, screaming for herself.

‘Have you seen…’ she swallowed and trailed off, desperate for information but frozen as her mind worked out what to ask. He said Harry had messaged him, but did he know? Was he aware that his small world was about to be turned on its head, yet again?

‘No,’ he shook his head and offered another sad smile. ‘I am not allowed.’

Not allowed? Who was it making the decisions? Healers? The Ministry?

‘Narcissa?’ she asked, her voice a mere whisper.

‘I am under the impression that she is aware. I saw Minister Shacklebolt arrive not long after me and then heard the Healers express a need for family consent.’ 

‘What about Blaise...is he…’

‘No,’ he cut across her. ‘I think Potter just needed someone to sit with you while they went back to work. I think they thought I would be able to…’

He trailed off again, looking away slightly awkwardly. What had Harry hoped? That he would be able to keep her from wandering off without them there to stop her? That Theo would be someone to talk to about everything? That he was the confidant she had chosen over them? All of those things may have been true a week ago, but now everything was so convoluted, so mixed up that she was sure that he was here to tell her off.

‘Theo...I…’

‘Please don’t, Hermione,’ he looked back at her, the sad smile still etched on his face as if it were a mask. ‘You don’t need to.’

‘But I have to…’

‘You don’t! We were drunk...and sad….and,’ he sighed and shook his head. ‘It changes nothing! I am under no illusion that it was the beginning of our great love story - but an interlude in the lives of two heartbroken people trying to find solace in their situation.’

He squeezed her hand in his; Hermione could feel the slight dampness of them in the humid atmosphere of her hospital ward.

‘What if it’s not real Theo?’ she asked him, her voice hollow as she sounded the fear that had struck her the moment she had barged into room 2.11.

‘What if it’s not, Hermione?’

‘What do I do?’

‘You be the strong woman you have been this entire time. Don’t get your hopes up to high but don’t let them fall. He is going to need you if it is real.’

She nodded, a tear falling from the corner of her eye and down into her hairline. Theo reached forward and brushed it away for her, leaning forward and placing a soft and chaste kiss to her forehead.

‘When you see him - tell him you love him!’ Theo said, as he rose from his chair and left the room without looking back. 

Her tears continued to fall as she thought about what Theo had said, her friend who had stuck by her, the friend who had found comfort in her. Her tears remained silent, she was unable to vocalise them for fear of the stabbing pain that would erupt within her, but the steady fall of her noiseless sobs rocked her back into an uneasy and healing sleep.

  
  


When she awoke again, morning had arrived. The thrum of activity she had heard the previous night had increased, hundreds of peoples feet pounding and the chink of potions bottles being wheeled down the corridors flooded her senses. Hermione was also greeted with the ability to take a deep breath without the tightening of the elastic band. It was a welcome feeling as she was able to slowly push herself up to sitting without the pain she had experienced yesterday, a small victory. Within minutes a Healer came in and smiled at her; she was middle aged with light brown hair and kind eyes, a motherly figure of sorts.

‘It’s nice to see you awake Miss Granger,’ the woman smiled and walked towards her, casting a diagnostic charm on her as she approached. Hermione looked up at the charm working, the colours and runes on display and wondered what it was telling the woman. She wondered how many of these he had performed on him over the night? What were his diagnostics telling them right now?

‘Now, it’s great that you are sitting up. It tells me your chest is feeling much better.’

‘Yes, thanks. There is no more pain and the tightness has gone,’ Hermione explained, in a hurry to press the woman for answers that she had not received elsewhere.

‘That’s great. From the looks of your bubble,’ she pointed to the diagnostic charm above her head, ‘everything is returning to normal levels. We want to keep you in one more night to ensure that your levels don’t spike but you should be able to get out of bed soon.’

‘And have you heard anything about…’

‘I’m sorry Miss Granger,’ she interrupted her. ‘I know that you are probably desperate for news but I have been sworn to secrecy by the Minister. I am sure the Auror department will be here soon to relay details to you. I will ensure they are aware that you are strong enough to be told.’

With a final flourish of her wand, Hermione watched as the glowing bubble above her own head faded and the woman turned on her heels and walked out of her room. She left the door ajar as she went and, excited to see the rest of the ward, Hermione craned her neck around the see what she could gauge from her new vantage point. But she was disappointed to see nothing but people passing and the white walls of the corridor beyond. 

Hermione was beyond frustrated at the state in which she had been left; Harry and Ron with no information and the promise of a return they had not fulfilled, Theo with his comforting words but no information to share and a whisper of Kingsley but no visit from the Minister to explain. Not only that, but Healers sworn to secrecy. Harry had told Ron that she was not stupid; they knew that keeping the truth from her was not a good idea - but now here she was, stuck in a hospital bed and waiting to be told what to do, like a child. Hermione had not been a child for a long time.

The worst thing was that, sitting there with nothing to do but twiddle her thumbs, made Hermione think about him and what she had seen. Walking into room 2.11 had been like falling back into one of her nightmares; one that she had not woken up from. How many times had she seen the ruins of Scotland, seen the faces of Harry and Ron as they had seen him before her? Her dreams had been plagued by the feeling of her own body turning, the sight of him before her, cold and limp, the ache of her knees as they had hit the floor. She had been dragged away from his alabaster body on the stone slab and into the land of the waking so many times now, that it would appear to be her that the only escape from dreaming would be to turn away from him in the Ministry, and leave him alone.

And after all these months of dreaming, of the fear and hatred that filled her nights, she had a new nightmare to live. Hermione began to wonder if she would ever shake the look of his face out of her mind. The fear, the pain, the agony that was etched upon the tight, place and greying skin. The terror with which he had looked at her; an expression she had never wanted to see, would have died before coming in close contact with it.

‘Hermione?’ a tentative voice sounded from the door.

Hermione pulled herself from her thoughts to realise she had been staring at the same section of wall for Merlin only knows how long. She turned her head to see Harry once more, shuffling on his feet. He clearly hadn’t had any rest, his eyes were still as drawn as they had been the night before but he had changed; his burgundy Auror robes loosely buttoned as he twitched before her.

‘Are you nervous Harry?’ she asked him, surprised at how calm she sounded upon seeing him. She was sure that she would have bombarded him with questions, demanding to know what was going on. Maybe it was the sight of him that pushed them away from the forefront of her mind.

‘What?’

‘You are standing in the doorway like I am going to eat you.’ 

He walked further in, shutting the door behind him and moving to sit on her bed.

‘How are you feeling?’

‘Better. A Healer came in this morning and said that they only want to keep me in one more night to be sure my vitals don’t spike.’ 

Harry nodded but did not speak. His breathing was slow and heavy, as if trying to work himself up to some awful truth that he had kept from her.

‘She didn’t tell me anything else,’ Hermione said simply, he just nodded once more.

There had been many moments in their friendship where they had sat in silence because the weight on the conversation was too much to bear, too much to explain. There had been moments where this had been a comfort. She had sat with him after the battle of the Ministry while his dreams for the future had been shattered, they had sat together when Ron had left and the unspoken things were left unsaid. But now, as she sat and tried to patiently wait for him to speak to her, she wondered when they would be able to speak freely to one another without the weight upon them once more. Hermione could not shake the memory now, of Harry leaving 2.11, the way his own body had fought what he had seen, retching at the way the story had played out. Slowly she took his hand in hers.

‘I want to see him.’ Hermione broke the silence and stared into his small face. Everyone would always see Harry as the Saviour, she would always see a very small boy.

‘You can’t.’ He looked like the answer was causing him pain. 

‘Why?’ she asked. Her anger flaring out at him, she pulled her hand free of his and threw it into the air with abandon.

‘Kingsley has said that…’

‘Kingsley! Fuck Kingsley!’ she shouted.

‘Hermione, calm down!’

‘No, Harry! You tell me what the fuck is going on and then I am going to get out of this bed and you are going to take me to him!’

But Harry did not say anything. He clenched his eyes shut, his hands coming to rub at them as he gripped his own hairline. 

‘Fuck!’ he muttered under his breath, his jaw clenched. He rose from the bed and walked out of the room without another word. 

She gaped at where he had been, eyes trained on the door as it swung shut. Never in all their years of friendship had he walked out on her like that. Hermione pulled back the covers on her bed and gingerly pulled herself out of bed. She realised quickly that the pyjamas that they had put her in were thin and drafty and without anything on her feet, the floor was ice cold. She had only taken one step when the door opened again. She opened her mouth ready to berate her best friend, only to find herself standing in front of the Minister for Magic for the second time in 24 hours.

‘Hermione,’ he said slowly, ‘Would you like to sit down?’

‘No thankyou,’ she answered, her voice clouded with bitterness. ‘Has Harry chickened out?’

‘No,’ he replied, just as slowly. It irritated her, it was as if she were a very old and deaf witch. ‘He just knows that he was about to defy orders.’

‘Forgive me - Minister,’ she knew she was laying it on thick, but once again she was reaching for desperate measures. ‘But I don’t feel the orders are fair if they are to keep something from me.’

‘As much as I would like to have you on the force, Hermione, you are not an Auror. As such, we can only release information to you on a need to know basis. And right now...you do not need to know.’

‘Don’t need to... I was there - I saw him and…’

‘Hermione, I cannot tell you what you did or did not see. But, unfortunately, I cannot confirm or deny what has happened at this stage.’

‘I know he is here...I know you are keeping him from me...either you tell me what’s going on or…’

‘I really don’t have time for bargain situations, Hermione.’

‘Then I will leave you to it,’ she spat out, her anger spilling out of her unchecked. ‘It will give me some time to contact the press.’

Hermione knew the magic words when she needed them; just like she had cast a hex on him, his face faltered and stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. 

‘Potter!’ Kingsley called and Hermione watched, with furrowed eyebrows, as Harry came back into the room, his nervous energy filling the small space.

‘Minister?’ he asked, not meeting Hermione’s eyes.

‘I would like you to stay with Miss Granger, please.’

‘Sir - I…’

‘I want you to tell her.’

‘But Sir - we…’

‘We cannot risk it with her - she knows too much and... she threatened the press,’ he sighed. Harry shot Hermione a look of shock and she shrugged, her chest roaring at the fact that she had got her way. Harry shook his head and turned back to Kingsley.

‘Yes, Minister. And after?’

‘That will be your decision, Potter. It’s your case - you need to do what you see fit’ He turned and walked to the door, throwing his head over his shoulder and tipping his head. ‘Miss Granger - I am sure I will see you soon.’

Kingsley left and in his wake, a tension filled the space between them. 

‘The press, Hermione? Really?’ he sighed.

‘What am I supposed to say, Harry? I am tired of everything being hidden. I am going to go out of my mind if you don’t tell me what’s going on.’

‘Hermione, sit down,’ Harry told her. 

She didn’t have the fight to argue him on this, not when she realised how close she was to finding out what had happened in that small ministry room. She moved backwards, sitting on the side of the rickety hospital bed. The look Harry was giving her was so intense, she was sure that if he had the power, she would have burst. Thinking about it in the silence as he composed himself, she was almost certain that she would not have gone to the press. Her experience with the press before led her to have a deep mistrust of them; they could be bought and silenced with the right amount of money and pressure- was there anything worth destroying bridges for them?

‘Hermione, I don’t really know where to start,’ he struggled.

‘What has he told you?’ she asked, her brows furrowed. His face told her that it was something she did not want to know, no matter how much she asked. He drove on, ignoring the question that she asked.

‘We are not sure how it happened, but it appears that there has been a lot of polyjuice in his system. It had been pumped into him for at least 6 months - they are looking into the long term effects of such heavy use. We think that guard that spoke to you might have been involved, he is currently under surveillance but we can’t bring him in until we have evidence to suggest that he was involved.’

‘So ever since - ‘

‘Yes. It’s been him in that cell ever since Scotland. We had him in 2.11 for just over the hour mark when…’ Harry stopped, his lips tight together as he swallowed, clearly trying to control his emotions. ‘His body started to fight the effects and he changed. At first - I thought it was some cruel trick, another layer to this damn riddle...Kingsley went mental.

He was shouting at him, trying to get answers but we couldn’t say anything. It was like Ron had said - he wanted to talk but he physically couldn’t get it out - he was scrambling trying to fight his way into the corner - like Greyback in the ruins.

Kingsley told me that it must be a hoax, that Greyback must still be in there somewhere but…’ it was here in the story that Harry’s had shot up to cover his own mouth and Hermione was shocked that it was hitting him like this. Yes, she could feel the bile rising from her stomach as he explained to her. Had she become so much more numb than him over the last half a year.

‘But?’ she practically shouted, urgency clear in her voice.

‘But the Azkaban uniform slipped off his frame - he is so skinny - but I saw them. The scars on his chest. The sectumsempra scars! He saw me looking and he...he grabbed my hand before Kingsley could pull me away and...he...he’

Harry was overcome, he moved towards and collapsed on the bed next to her, his face hidden behind his hands. He rubbed his face twice, took a deep breath and sat up, looking at her.

‘His hand in mine; it was deathly pale and the skin was so...dry. He pulled me towards him and put my hand on his chest - right over his scar and he...he just stared into my eyes and nodded slowly.’ she was watching his eyes as he re-lived it, saw his face in front of him, felt the marred skin under his fingertips. ‘Kingsley was shouting behind me, but I couldn’t hear him. I could only see the fear in his eyes, hear the silent shouts he was screaming at me. In that moment I knew it wasn’t a lie and I….I...that’s when I went into the corridor.’

‘That’s when I saw you? Against the wall?’

‘I couldn’t take it, Hermione.’ he was looking at her with eyes so wide and full of guilt that she almost looked away from her own shame. ‘How could I look at him anymore when the last time I saw him I was crying in Ron’s arms.’

Harry was devastated, she could see it in his face, his body language, the way he was fixated on her hands. But she could not feel sorry for him right now, there was someone else who needed her attention. She suddenly stood up, shocking Harry as his eyes shot to meet hers as she stood above him.

‘Take me to him!’ He stood up to stand in front of her. ‘Kingsley said it was your case and...I know it’s your choice but...I want you to take me to him.’

She had been surprised that he had agreed so quickly, her brain had already been formulating arguments to take him on at every stop point. But all he had done was sigh, pass her a pair of slippers, take her hand and lead her out of the room she had been confined to. As he led her down the many, chilly corridors of St Mungos for Magical Maladies and Injuries, she received a lot of strange looks from a few Healers and some patients. She tried to ignore them, she knew her hair was probably double its size, the bags under her eyes she knew would scare small children, but all that mattered was Harry’s hand in hers. The feel of his cold, clammy skin rubbing against hers was like a prayer, a prayer that was finally ready to be answered.

After a few minutes they moved up a corridor and Hermione saw a door surrounded by multiple Aurors that she recognised from the B Team from the night in Scotland - and Ron. Upon their approach he pushed himself off the wall - he still looked as tired as he had the night previously just like Harry - and opened his arms to envelop her in a hug.

‘Are you sure about this, Harry?’ he asked over the top of her head.

‘I can’t fight her anymore, Ron. She needs to see this, she has to understand.’ Pulling back, Ron spoke to her.

‘When you go in, make sure to not make any sudden movements - he doesn’t like them.’

‘Is there anything I shouldn’t ask him about?’ she asked, trying to keep her voice even.

‘It doesn’t really matter what you ask him because...he can’t speak back.’

She felt like she had ran into a brick wall, her stomach clenching painfully.

’Apparently, the Healers have no idea why he can’t talk. It’s just like in Azkaban, Hermione - he is trying so hard but he can’t. We tried to get him to write it down but...his hands were shaking so much. At first we thought it was because he was weak, that he couldn’t hold the quill but - every time he tried to write he looked like he was in physical pain. They have checked his system for any potions and his blood cleared, the curse-breakers left with a blood and magic sample about an hour ago.’

Hearing Ron’s words wash over her felt surreal, as if this was happening to someone else. Hermione started to wonder how much more she could take before she physically couldn’t take it anymore. Before she could wallow, she took a deep breath, swallowed and nodded her head, turning her body towards the closed door of his room.

‘We are here with you, okay?’ she heard Harry say behind her as she slowly pushed open the door. She heard a gasp from her own mouth as she laid her eyes in him. 

It was like watching a dream - a memory. He was sitting there and he looked so small in the bed under the clean linen and the hospital issued pyjamas. They were hanging off him like he was nothing but a small child. There was a slight tremor about him, like he was constantly vibrating, his jaw clenched to stop his teeth chattering together. His hair was longer than she had ever seen it, hanging loosely just below his ears, almost dead with malnourished care. But his eyes - they were bright as he saw her; wide and pleading for her to move closer. His hand moved down his thigh under the blanket towards her, as if he was trying to reach for her but couldn’t muster the strength to lift his fingers more than an inch.

‘Draco,’ she whispered.

* * *

Notes - so my promise for a quicker chapter was clearly a lie...I'm so sorry! Turns out the writers block is real right now. Enjoy my lovelies!


	35. Chapter 35

‘Draco,’ she whispered.

Hermione heard the door close behind her and Harry and Ron moved across the room to sit down in the visitors seats. But she was rooted to the spot. His face was so drawn and grey, so similar to the face that she had seen upon the slab all those months ago, that it seemed nothing would compel her to get any closer. Then he smiled at her. It was small and full of pain, the corners of his mouth only just turned up.

She felt weak behind the knees as her feet carried her towards the side of his bed, towards the smile that spoke of life. It was a journey of months, shrunk down to a few final steps and she found that they were the most difficult of all. She had only just got within reaching distance when he grabbed at her hand like she was a lifeline. Tears sprang to her eyes and a heavy mass weighed on her chest, a lump developing in her throat as he took her hand and rubbed it against the skin on his cheek. He was warm to the touch. She watched, enraptured in his movement like he was a fabulous ghost, as his eyes closed and moved her palm across his dry and chapped lips, placing a gentle kiss in the centre. A small sob escaped her lips and his eyes darted up to hers, his face the picture of worry.

And in that small look, the months apart collapsed upon her like an avalanche and she felt herself falling with the rubble of her own self-restraint to sit on the side of the bed. Her hands moved to cup his face and neck. Her fingertips revelled in the feel of his heartbeat against them and she could not contain her tears when she felt the hot water from his own eyes run over her thumbs. Slowly, she lowered her head until their foreheads met and she closed her eyes, sighing and finally letting a smile grace her features. In all that had happened, in her years of war and learning, she knew that nothing could have prepared her for this. The simple act of sitting with him once more, feeling the gentle warmth of his skin against hers, the soft breeze of his exhale was more than a thousand wishes. 

In that moment, Theo’s words sprung into the forefront of her mind and she wanted so much to share with him her feelings. Not really caring that Harry and Ron were sitting with them, not worried that he would not be able to say it back; she knew what had to be done. Drawing back, setting her gaze on the eyes she knew so well, she moved her hands down to clasp around her own.

‘Draco - I am so sorry. I never would have given up, you have to know that. I don’t know what happened and I am so sorry that you had to go through that. All I can say is that I am sorry I let you stop me saying it before.’ she took a deep breath, feeling the words already forming on her tongue. ‘I love you, Draco.’

His hands tightened in hers and he dropped his head, shaking it with a small smile etched upon his lips. He opened them and she could see his tongue moving, his Adams Apple jolting as he attempted to make a sound, his eyes screwed up, his fingers closing around her as she knew the pain enveloped him. There were so many things that she wanted to say to him that she could imagine how painful it was to not be able to tell her. Hermione would admit, she was desperate to know what had happened, why he had left her, what Dawlish had done to him - but patience was something that she was quickly running out of.

‘Please…’ she whispered, shaking her head. ‘Please don’t try to talk.’

Draco sighed, visibly anguished by the situation in which he had found himself in. His fingers squeezing at her hands, the shaking more noticeable as he became frustrated.

‘Just calm down,’ she told him, stroking a hand down his face. ‘They are trying everything they can. I am sure…’

She tried to reassure him but he just sadly shook his head as if he knew that nothing was going to work, that they would not find anything.

‘Is there nothing we can do?’ she asked, turning her head to the boys.

‘We tried everything, Hermione. We have to wait for the curse-breakers to do their job.’

Turning back to Draco she could see his eyes, the brilliant silver of them, were filled with shame and anger as he stared at her. Keeping eye contact with him made her wish she could just see through his eyes, wish that she would be able to see everything that had happened to her. 

‘Harry,’ she said suddenly, her voice higher than she expected it to sound. ‘Have you tried Legilimancy?’ There was an edge of excitement in her, like this was the moment she was waiting for, but she sensed that Harry had expected the questions also.

‘Of course we have.’ he sighed, shaking his head and staring at Draco from the end of the bed. ‘I tried as hard as I could - but Narcissa said that the Malfoy line has a strong magical gene based in Occlumency - Draco is blocking us from getting in without even trying.’

Her eyes moved between Harry and Ron, taking in their frustration and anger. She wanted to cry, to collapse into a bed and cover herself up, pushing out the rest of this day. But no matter how large the lump in her throat became, the tears wouldn’t fall over this, there must be a way through.

She felt Draco’s fingers squeeze once more around hers and she turned as he moved her hand to rest against his forehead, his fingers falling into his hair. It was softer than it looked, although it was impossible that the cleaning charms that they had used on him were as good as a real shower. His own hand was heavy against hers, as if he was trying to push his thoughts into it. That was when he brought his other hand to her chest, his finger pointed. If ever there had been a clearer message, it would be this.

‘Harry…’ she said slowly, not breaking eye contact with Draco as she did so. ‘I think he wants me to try.’

‘What?’ Harry asked incredulously and she knew he was thinking about his own skill. ‘I can do the spell just as well and…’

‘No - I didn’t mean it like that,’ she sighed, her eyes fluttering closed with exhaustion. ‘I just meant - I think Draco wants me to try it.’

A silence came between them as Harry was thinking about the repercussions of the actions that Hermione wanted to take. She understood why he might not like it; the disappointment she would feel at not being able to break through the block, what she might be confronted with if she did manage it, the paperwork it would entail. She wondered if a Healer would need to be present to check on his vitals as she worked. But beneath all of this, she felt relief and touched by Draco’s trust in her. She remembered how hard it was for him to let her in, to allow her to see his most vulnerable side. His own mother had made it clear that his privacy was something that he valued above anything else- the fact that he wanted her to try this must mean something.

‘What’s the harm in trying, Harry?’ Ron asked, his voice laced with the exhaustion that she felt. 

‘I am worried about what she might find in there,’ Harry said.

‘It’s not like I have seen my worst nightmares come true or anything,’ she scoffed and they both looked at her reproachingly. ‘If I don’t give this a try - then why bring me here at all.’

‘I just don’t want you to get hurt anymore,’ Harry said, moving towards the other side of the bed and looking between her and Draco. ‘This might be too much for you to take and...you may find out something that you can never erase.’

‘Harry - there are plenty of things in this world that I would rather know nothing about. There are horrors only the four of us a privy to, and I know erasing that from my memory would be preferable. In the last six months I have been hurt more than I thought was ever possible - but I am still here, standing and waiting for the next thing to hit me. If that is not proof enough that I can do this for the man I love, then I don’t think there is anything I could do that would convince you.’

His face fell as he took in her words. It reminded her of the way he looked whenever she would volunteer herself to help him; at the ministry, on the hunt. It was as if there was a part of her he could not let go, the part of him that still saw her as the small eleven year old that needed their help with a troll in a bathroom.

‘Okay - ‘he said, after what felt like a lifetime. ‘Just please - if it gets too much, come out of there. The mind can be a...a really horrible place’

She smiled and nodded. It was then that Harry pulled her own wand from his back pocket and handed it over to her. She took it in her own hand and placed it against Draco’s temple, placing her other hand in his. Draco squeezed it tight and she sighed, knowing that his trust was all she needed to take this step into his brain.

‘Legilimens,’ she whispered, and as if she was being thrust through a tunnel, she felt herself fall into his mind.

* * *

_ Shell Cottage. She knew it before she even took a breath; the scent in the air was thick with the salt of the ocean. Opening her eyes she was confronted with a scene she had only heard. Witnessing it made her chest tight. _

_ ‘And that is all?’ Kingsley asked, sitting on a wicker armchair opposite Draco. Her breath stilled when she saw the state of him; his shoulders hunched, his face red with tears, his eyes bloodshot. He was worrying his hands together, it seemed as if he was unable to sit still but eventually he lifted his head, his eyes meeting Kingsley with a determined look on his face. He nodded. _

_ ‘I don’t trust you,’ Kingsley continued. ‘If Potter has said he does, then that must be something but…’ _

_ ‘I gave you the information didn’t I? I gave you everything you have asked for!’ There was something so urgent about the way he spoke and it struck her that she didn’t even know why he was so upset. They had never spoken about the time in his life where he lived at Malfoy Manor with Voldemort, he was such a closed cook. _

_ ‘Yes you have,’ Kingsley said. ‘But now you call me here, looking like you have lost your mind with grief and tell me…’ _

_ ‘Please - don’t repeat it!’ Draco stuttered. ‘If anyone heard it, they would never forgive me.’ he said. This side of him scared her, what had he done that was unforgivable? _

_ ‘And you think they should?’ Kingsley asked, his voice was harsh and Hermione realised she had never heard the authority in it before. _

_ ‘I am never going to forgive myself for it,’ Draco sobbed at the older man. ‘But I am doing everything in my power to help end this. To bring them peace.’ _

_ ‘Them?’ Kingsley asked. _

_ ‘Everyone else.’ _

_ ‘And what about you? Will ending this not bring you peace?’ _

_ ‘I will never know peace again,’ Draco muttered back. _

_ ‘Listen to me clearly, Malfoy,’ said Kingsley ‘If I find out you have lied, or that there is more to the story than you say - I will personally find you and kill you.’ _

_ It was at this point that fatigue had overcome Hermione and she remembered making her way back up the stairs and to her room. Her mind had been reeling at Draco’s sobs and Kingsleys words, but the trauma of her mind and body had been far more pressing. She strained her ears as she watched the two men sit in silence, and then she heard it. Her own door closing a floor above them. The two men’s heads looked up. _

_ ‘What was that?’ Draco asked, his voice childlike. _

_ ‘The house is old, it must have been the timbers,’ came a voice from the shadows in the far corner, a voice that sent a chill down her spine. _

_ ‘I think we have enough, Dawlish,’ Kingsley said as he rose from the chair and Dawlish stepped out into the soft light of the room. _

_ ‘Hang on Kingsley,’ he said as he turned to Draco. ‘You murdered those people and you honestly think we can keep that a secret? You had a hand in the murder of Ted Tonks; a great man, your own uncle.’ _

_ ‘Please - I didn’t know who he was. They threatened to kill my mother if I did not follow orders - what was I supposed to have done? If it was me they threatened to kill I would have done so in an instant, but how could I condemn my mother to that? Would you?’ _

_ ‘Sometimes,’ Dawlish said through gritted teeth. ‘You have to do what’s right for the greater good, not what’s right for one person.’ _

_ Hermione was shocked to hear these words from his mouth, but her skin erupted in goosebumps as she remembered that it was not the first time she had heard him say them. It was at this moment that Draco sprang up, incensed by the Auror’s words but before she witnessed anything more, the scene went black and she was thrust further down the tunnel into a new scene. _

* * *

_ When the darkness opened up to light, she realised that she was yet again in a familiar scene, this time staring at herself. _

_ ‘Azkaban? But you don’t deserve to be there!’ she watched herself say. She looked as tired as she remembered being that night, another night of insomnia and self-guilt. As she watched, she tried to see what she had that night, a scared boy that didn’t stand a chance against the establishment they had fought to save. But she couldn’t see it - all she could see was him and how close he was to her. _

_ ‘Don’t I Granger? I think your arm tells a different story, among other things.’ _

_ ‘But the Order can…’ _

_ ‘The Order is not the ministry. I was a spy Granger - the key there was secrecy and to make sure there was no trail. I have to stand trial so they can ascertain what my role was and if I actually did anything to help. Shaklebolt has told me that the Ministry does not want to make the same mistakes as last time and let Death Eaters walk free because of influence and money.’ _

_ ‘You’re trial is a formality. You know that Harry will speak.’ _

_ ‘What if I don’t want Saint Potter to save me? What if I want to rot away?’ _

_ She noticed now that she had never really seen a pattern before, his self destructive nature. It was something so un-Slytherin that she thought she must have been ignoring it, trying to cling to the idea that he was always clueless with what was actually happening underneath it all. But seeing this image before her now, stood away from her own thoughts on the conversation, she could see that all he wanted was for it to be over, to be punished for what he so clearly felt responsible for. _

_ ‘You think I don’t want to rot away as well?’ she asked, watching her own self conscious actions as she grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled at the frayed ends. _

_ ‘And what would make anyone as pretty as you want to do that?’ he asked. Even as she watched the memory, she felt a blush across her own cheeks. This may have been the first time he had complimented her. _

_ ‘I am sure that you, better than most, know what it’s like to feel a little numb.’ _

_ He nodded at her, his eyes flickering towards her left arm and then turned towards the stairs. _

_ ‘Don’t.’ she said. This stopped him in his tracks and he turned to face her again, Hermione noticing for the first time his furrowed brows. _

_ ‘Don’t what?’ he asked. _

_ ‘Don’t rot away...please.’ _

_ He smirked and ran his hands once more through his hair before his smirk turned into a smile, speaking before he turned to leave. _

_ ‘Anything for you Granger.’ _

_ And he walked. Hermione wanted more than anything to stay and watch herself, watch the small part of her think about how Draco had affected her that night. She wanted to watch a Hermione that was unburdened by the events of the past year, but knew that the memory must continue as she had not seen black yet.  _

_ She followed Draco’s path down the stairs and along the seventh floor corridor when she, once again, heard the voice of Dawlish. At first, Hermione was sure that they must have moved into the next memory as there was no way he would have been in the castle that night; the Aurors did not turn up to collect Draco until the next day. But soon, she heard Draco’s own drawl respond and, as she turned the corner, saw the two of them face to face. _

_ ‘It was made clear to you, Malfoy, that during your, thankfully, short stay in this castle, you were to refrain from wandering around.’ Dawlish spat at him. _

_ ‘I was under the impression that I wasn't to be watched while I was here. Potter made that clear to you.’ _

_ ‘Well, I don’t take orders from Potter. He may have defeated You-Know-Who, but I am employed by the Ministry.’ _

_ ‘What is your problem?’ Draco hissed at him. ‘I can understand the other Auror’s getting on my back, but you knew I was a spy - we worked together Dawlish.’ _

_ ‘Reluctantly, yes.’ Dawlish smirked. ‘But I remember what you have done and the families you helped to destroy. I will do everything I can to make sure that you are punished for the things you have done.’ _

_ And once again, before Draco could retort the horrific comment that Dawlish had made, the tunnel closed around her eyes and she was shot once again into darkness. _

  
  


* * *

_ The brightness of this next scene had Hermione shielding her eyes as she looked over the Lake at Hogwarts. It was sparkling in the sun and, in the distance, she thought she could make out the tentacle of the Giant Squid playing in the water. _

_ ‘Hermione,’  _

_ The sound of her own name made her spin on the spot and she was shocked to see herself, Harry, Ron and Draco all standing close together. Her heart plummeted at the thought of this memory and what it had meant for the four of them.  _

_ ‘Do you know the spell?’ Harry asked in a quiet and resigned voice. _

_ She watched herself draw her wand from where she stood behind Draco, looking over his shoulder she saw Harry and Draco clasp each other’s wrists. It was the first time, and hopefully the last time, she would ever need to use the spell that she had seen ruin so many lives. She had read the theory about it while in her fourth year but had never really wanted to test it; at the time she had not been able to think of any secret that would need to be kept this way. Of course, as had been proven over the last seven years, something was always bound to come a long and shock her. _

_ The silver tendrils stretched over their arms and hands, wrapping themselves around and flashing like fire as the promises were made. _

_ ‘Will you swear to not reveal the information you have discovered about Horcruxes?’ Harry asked, his voice shaky. _

_ ‘I do,’ answered Draco. _

_ ‘Do you swear to not go looking for more information about this piece of Dark Magic?’ _

_ ‘I do.’ _

_ ‘Will you swear to never attempt to use this information to make your own Horcrux, or help someone else to achieve it?’ _

_ ‘I do.’ _

_ Once the silver vines retreated back into Hermione’s wand, the four of them stood in silence, unsure of what to say to each other. Hermione remembered wanting to wish him luck, wanted to say something comforting, wanted Harry to thank him for everything he had done. But that had not happened, she had never been sure why, but as she stared from Draco’s point of view, she understood. _

_ Thundering across the green lawn towards them were the Auror’s who had appeared to take Draco away for his stint in Azkaban. Hermione felt sick as she saw them, their burgundy robes billowing behind them as they marched towards them in a formation that made her think of great battles won and lost. Leading the charge, his face as murderous as the rest of them, was Dawlish and it was then that Hermione started to piece two and two together. Had Dawlish seen them make the Unbreakable Vow? _

  
  


* * *

_ For a moment, it was not clear to her if they had changed memories as she was still standing in front of the lake. Only this time, it was the moon reflected in the dark waters and not the light of the sun. But she could not see Draco anywhere. How could this be his memory without him?  _

_ Hermione started to walk, following the edge of the lake, sure that she would have moved elsewhere if this was not where she was meant to be. Being here almost felt comforting, like she would turn around and the three of them; the Golden Trio, would be sitting under their favourite tree with homework or sweets. She smiled to think that Harry and Ron could be shooting furtive looks at each other, missing each other's faces by seconds and she would be watching and internally shaking her head at how blind they could be. Those days felt so far away now that this memory could have been a dream. _

_ The tree came into view just as she thought about it, it’s leaves gone with the winter weather. As she drew nearer she noticed two figures underneath and her heart stopped. _

_ ‘Draco…’ she heard herself whisper. _

_ Draco’s hand ghosted across her collarbone to land on her neck. She remembered the feel of his thumb as it brushed against her jaw, the feel of her skin as it erupted in shivers at the touch, how her lips had parted softly. It had been the first time anyone had ever touched her like that. The first time everything had felt so right, so sensual and so terrifying all at the same time. _

_ ‘I’m going to kiss you Granger!’ Draco told her, his eyes boring into hers. _

_ Hermione stood stock still, watching herself and Draco, enthralled by the way his lips met hers. At first, she was still, frozen, petrified of the steps that he had taken towards her. But as her younger self started to respond, Hermione felt that little dragon in her chest; the one that had been lost in Scotland, purring at the sight of them together. The way she grabbed at his jersey reminding her that her need for him was never going to go away, no matter what she found out. Smiling in the knowledge that she would be able to use this to get through the horrible things that came next, she turned to see the tunnel closing in. _

  
  


* * *

_ She was following Draco down through the dungeon corridors of Hogwarts. His strides were long and fast, he was determined to get somewhere and knew exactly where he was going. This was the first time Hermione was introduced to something she had not seen before and it made her heart beat faster.  _

_ Draco turned a corner up ahead, and another, moving faster and faster until Hermione was certain that he was going to break out into a run. The shadows cast by the torches were enveloping him in darkness every few steps and it appeared that he might never slow down, until he stopped dead in front of an ordinary classroom door. His hand reached out and turned the old door handle, throwing open the door, he stepped inside. Following him, Hermione looked around the room and saw Pansy sitting on a table as if she had been waiting for him. _

_ ‘What do you want?’ she asked, her nose in the air. Hermione had an appealing urge to throw something at him. _

_ ‘I need to talk to you about something.’ Draco answered. _

_ ‘I thought you were away for the holidays - loving it up with Granger. What happened? She break up with you already?’ she laughed. _

_ ‘No, actually Hermione was in hospital.’ _

_ ‘Did you finally come to your senses and try to kill her?’ she laughed again. The sneer across her ugly face was unforgivable, but did Hermione really expect any more from the girl. _

_ ‘Actually, I think that was your doing!’ Draco’s voice had remained calm and steady the entire conversation thus far. Hermione found that he had incredible restraint when he needed to, she was sure that if the roles had been reversed, she would have already been screaming at Pansy for her words and for what she had done. To Hermione’s delight, Pansy’s face fell. _

_ ‘What are you -’ _

_ But before she could ask, Draco pulled the pendant out of his pocket and showed it to her. _

_ ‘Did you think I wouldn’t recognise it Pansy,’ he asked, his face full of confusion. ‘Or were you hoping I would?’ _

_ Pansy did not answer him; there was no snide remark or foul joke. Just her stunned silence as she did not let her eyes move from the jewellery. _

_ ‘Why Pansy?’ Draco asked, his voice barely above a whisper. ‘I know you don’t like her because of her blood but - killing her?’ _

_ ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you!’ she whispered back ,her eyes now glaring at Draco. ‘No one would have known. Clearly you wouldn’t have handed me over, seeing as the fact you have it means you took it from a crime scene.’ _

_ ‘I took it to give you a chance to explain yourself. Let me make this clear to you Pans - if she had died there would have been no lengths I wouldn’t have gone to to make you pay’ _

_ This shut her up. Hermione stared at Draco’s face, the tight jaw and narrowed eyes and knew that he wanted nothing more than to leave the girl alone. _

_ ‘Why Pansy?’ he asked again. _

_ ‘You wouldn’t understand - I…’ Hermione watched as Pansy became flustered and tears started to form in her eyes. She could feel some sympathy for Pansy as she watched her trying to explain her actions to a man that she had known almost her whole life. She could see the shame flit across her features as she realised how angry Draco really was, as she understood how deep she was into the mess that had been made for her by others. _

_ ‘Pansy - what is going on?’ Draco asked her, his eyebrows close together as he scanned her face. ‘You didn’t do this alone did you?’ _

_ ‘Do you not think I could have?’ she asked, her shoulders squaring as she sat up tall. _

_ ‘Pansy - it’s not a question of skill but motive. What would have driven you to this?’ _

_ Silence fell between the two of them as they sized each other up.  _

_ ‘How’s your mother?’ Draco asked suddenly. _

_ ‘Why would you ask?’ came Pansy’s quick response. _

_ ‘It’s just that I saw the prenuptial agreement that was sent to my mother and it only had your father’s signature on it. I was sure that knowing Matilda like I do, I would have thought she would have wanted to be a part of those negotiations.’ _

_ ‘Well she...she couldn’t...she…’ and without another word, Pansy burst into tears. _

_ ‘Where is she Pansy?’ Draco asked. _

_ ‘I don’t know. We don’t know.’ _

_ ‘Who had her?’ he asked, his voice rising in pitch. _

_ ‘I don’t know, okay! And father doesn’t know either.’ she took a shuddering breath and then let out the story to Draco. ‘She was taken from us and all we know is that the person works for the Ministry. They contact me through different means, always with a different face. He says that as soon as I complete my task - he will send Mother back.’ _

_ Draco’s face was shocked, more shocked than Hermione had ever seen it. _

_ ‘Why didn’t you tell me, Pansy?’ he pleaded with her. _

_ ‘I couldn’t because - they want you.’ she finished, hanging her head unable to meet his eyes. _

_ ‘Me? What do they want with me?’ _

_ ‘They want you unhappy….and alone.’ _

_ ‘And so you decided that the best way to do that is by attempting to kill the people around me. Hermione, Theo ...Blaise? How could you do that to our friends?’ _

_ ‘They are cutting her up, Draco,’ Pansy screamed. ‘They sent a box with her ear in it - I had to do what he told me.’ _

_ ‘And if this - person - doesn’t get what they want...what happens?’ Draco asked, his voice soft and low as if he already knows the answer to the question. _

_ ‘I’ll never see my mother again and...he said that he will finish the job on Granger.’ _

_ Time stood still for Hermione as she listened. Pansy had left that little detail out and she knew why. Draco would stop at nothing to protect the people he loved, that had become clear to her. Even Pansy, who had done nothing but make her life hell all year was someone he wanted to help.  _

_ ‘But - Hermione doesn’t have to die for me to be alone, Pansy. Why not just break us up?’  _

_ ‘Do you not think I tried? I have been trying to fill Granger’s head with shit all year - but she is stronger than she looks. I guess I should have expected it from the Brightest Witch of her Age.’ _

_ Draco turned away from her, his hands winding into his hair, pulling it in frustration. Hermione was unable to turn away from the anger and pain running through him at that moment but already knew what his decision was going to be. She had seen him be self-destructive before - why would it change now? _

_ ‘You are such a stupid woman!’ he shouted at her, spinning back around. ‘Why didn’t you come to me sooner - I would have easily left her and been miserable. Now it’s too late! She is at risk and I don’t think I can leave...I…’ he faltered and Hermione saw it written on his face, he had said too much. _

_ ‘You can’t leave her? You aren’t telling me you love her?’  _

_ Draco did not respond, just clenched his fists and looked down at his feet. A faint blush rose on his cheeks and Hermione watched as he realised that the game was up. He sighed, straightening up and looked at Pansy with a deadpan expression. _

_ ‘Make contact with your person - tell them it’s done.’  _

_ ‘But…’ _

_ ‘I’ll leave Hermione! I don’t know how long I will need to do it, but I’ll leave her. That should make your man happy!’ _

_ ‘She isn’t just going to let you go, Draco. The girl is far too loyal for that. Whatever you do or say - she will fight you tooth and nail to hang on. It’s what I should have done.’ she finished sadly. _

_ ‘Lucky for me I know just what to say to make her hate me.’ Draco replied. ‘I will let you know when it’s done. Goodbye Pansy.’ _

  
  


* * *

_ The tunnel opened again and she was back standing on the green lawns at the front of the school. There was no one else around, the sun setting just below the tree line of the forbidden forest, and Draco was slowly and steadily walking towards the trees. A lump had risen in her throat, she knew what was going to happen, knew that he was about to be taken. The hairs on the back of her neck and arms were raised as she followed his slow steps. Maybe he knew what was going to happen as well, maybe this is what he had planned all along. Hermione felt it akin to walking to the gallows, she was sure Draco must have felt the same way.  _

_ As he reached the edge of the treeline, he stopped and sighed, turning over his shoulder and taking what appeared to be one last look at the castle. At this moment, Hermione knew she was somewhere above them, planning meetings and organising duties, unaware that her whole life was about to crumble down upon her. _

_ ‘Getting one last look?’ a voice came from somewhere to their left and she turned as Draco’s head moved this way and that, trying to ascertain where the voice was coming from. _

_ ‘You told me to meet you here, so here I am. What do you want from me?’ Draco asked, he was trying to keep his voice steady but she could hear the small amount of fear laced in his words. _

_ ‘I want you to walk to the gates and step through without any complaint.’ _

_ Draco sighed and started to walk towards the large gates that guarded Hogwarts from the outside world. Hermione had come to the assumption that the person who was about to take him was under an invisibility cloak, if she looked closely she could almost see the faint shimmer that she had become so accustomed to with the use of Harry’s. The rest of the scene was quick and more silent than Hermione had imagined. She had wanted it to be a big fight, a duel where he risked his life to try and get away from his capturer. She wanted him, for once, to fight for himself and not just for others, she wished he would realise in this moment that he was worth it. But Hermione knew, as she followed him to the edge of the magical boundary, that he would not. _

_ As he stepped over the line, she waited with baited breath to see the person remove their cloak. But just as she gasped at the flicker of fear that crossed Draco’s face, he was gone in a blink and everything had once again been pushed into darkness. _

  
  


* * *

_ This time the scene started suddenly, the lights turned off as if someone had flicked a switch and before they could switch it off again she scanned the scene for every detail she could.  _

_ Draco was before her, sitting in a chair - tied to the chair. He was gagged and covered in cuts and bruises - the bile in her stomach threatened to rise but she pushed it down, gritted her teeth and watched as he groggily opened his eyes. He looked around slowly, taking in the room - it was dark and lit only with torches. Hermione had never seen anything like it, it was dank and one of the walls was wet as if they were deep underground. _

_ A scratching noise came from somewhere to the right and she turned her head at the same time as Draco did to see something that hit her like a wave of fear. There was a large cage set up on the far wall, it’s floor covered in dirt, bloody blankets and animal bones. In the corner of that cage sat a creature that was neither human or animal. Fenrir Greyback was sitting against the bars, apparently lost in his own world and did not realise that there was anyone else in the room with him. Hermione looked back to Draco who was eyeing the cage apprehensively. _

_ ‘Finally awake are you?’  _

_ Hermione swung around and anger rose up inside her like a fire. Bold as brass, Dawlish was walking towards the chair with a wand in his hand, lazily bouncing it up and down on his other hand. Hermione could see the small amount of sparks issuing from the end of it. _

_ ‘I see you have met my other house guest.’ Dawlish laughed and Draco grunted against his gag, starting to fight against the restraints that had been put on him. _

_ ‘Oh don’t worry Draco - he is completely under my control. He won’t be able to hurt you - he is just a pawn in this game as much as you are.’ _

_ Draco was breathing heavily through the material stuffed into his mouth and Hermione wanted nothing more than to turn away, to not see him like this. Harry’s words shot to her mind - she could leave if she wanted to, not see what she had come all this way for to save her own mind, her own heart - but without this evidence there was nothing they could do to keep Dawlish in prison. _

_ ‘I have to hand it to you Draco - and Miss Granger of course - I was sure this would have happened much sooner. It had taken a long time to get to this point. Of course, I have to hand it to Miss Parkinson, she was ever so eager to assist me when she realised that her mother was in real danger. Mr Greyback over there really enjoyed her ear.’ _

_ Hermione felt sick, he was revelling in this, how could she not have seen how mad and depraved this person was. Draco was fighting against the ropes again, pulling with everything he had so that his face went red with the effort. _

_ ‘You aren’t going to be able to get out of there Malfoy! The only way you are getting out of here is inside a werewolf and then to an early grave. _

_ This is what you deserve! You think you are so high and mighty - the great Harry Potter vouching for you at your trials, sitting around the table at Grimmauld during Order meetings, getting the lovely Miss Granger to spread her legs for you!’ Dawlish spat the words like they were poison in his mouth. Draco struggled even more, looking ready to kill the man that kept him there. _

_ ‘But I remember what you are! You are a murderer and you deserve to be punished for what you did to all those people; those muggles, Ted Tonks - they were all heroes. You are nothing but a slimy Death Eater who escaped prison, just like your father before you. But don’t worry! You will be joining him soon in Azkaban!  _

_ All this time, I have been sure you are up to something - confounding our Golden Trio with your disgusting ways and I am going to prove I am right. Make sure you don’t flinch too hard when I get inside that horrible brain of yours, you might bite your tongue off! Or do - like I care for a Death Eater’s wellbeing.’ _

_ And Draco only had a second to prepare himself, Hermione saw him clench his eyes shut to defend against the attack before Dawlish raised his wand and shouted ‘Legilimens!’ _

_ Hermione watched as Draco winced and Dawlish’s face furrowed in concentration as he drove through Draco’s memories like a sledgehammer. Hermione wondered what he was seeing - murders at Malfoy Manor, fights with Harry, Hermione and him. But as abruptly as it had started, Dawlish pulled his wand off of Draco and Hermione watched as Draco groaned in pain and opened his eyes. _

_ ‘Why is there a block in your memory, Malfoy? What could you possibly be hiding?’ _

_ All Draco could do was grunt as he tried to catch his breath from the brutal invasion of his mind.  _

_ ‘I am sure that I can get through it with a little bit of force,’ sighed Dawlish. ‘Crucio!’ he screamed and Hermione watched, a shout echoing from her own mouth, her hand outstretched as Draco writhed and screamed under the pain of the spell. _

_ ‘I am sure you are no stranger to that spell, Draco,’ Dawlish said as he stopped the curse. ‘I have just seen you use it on countless people. I wonder, Malfoy! Did you even realise the pain in which you were inflicting. Crucio!’ _

_ This time Hermione ran forward, crouching next to Draco as he jerked and twisted in the chair. Tears were running freely down her face as she watched him endure the torture. She had felt it herself, knew the horrors that lay beneath that word, the never ending, gut wrenching agony that rolled over your body. _

_ ‘Let’s try this again, shall we?’ Dawlish said, his voice dripping with sweetness. ‘Legilimens.’ _

_ And again, Draco closed his eyes, his head hanging back against the back of the chair and he winced as the spell drove over him. But once more, Dawlish pulled back. _

_ ‘Malfoy, who have you made an Unbreakable Vow with?’  _

_ Dawlish voice was low and dangerous, his eyes spitting fire as he stared down the end of his wand at the blonde in the chair. Hermione’s eyes went wide as she suddenly understood, the block was coming from the vow he made with Harry. He does not want anyone to know about the Horcruxes and so the block had been put up to ensure that no-one can know. And now he was going to be tortured until he could reveal the words - which would mean death. _

_ ‘Is it You-Know-Who boy?’ shouted Dawlish. ‘Is it all his plans for his resurgence?’ _

_ Moving forward, Dawlish drew back a fist in front of Draco and Hermione screamed leaping in front in an attempt to protect him, but Dawlish’s hand ran right through her as if she were a ghost and a sickening thud could be heard from behind her as the punch landed. Swinging around, Hermione could see blood trickling from Draco’s nose as he hung his head down. _

_ ‘You make me sick, Malfoy! This is just one more reason to make sure you stay alive - so I can try and get past your little block. Hopefully I can get the memory and then you will die - it’s a double win for me!’ _

_ As Hermione looked down at the broken and beaten form of Draco Malfoy, she could only cry and wish there was something that she could do about it. Suddenly, Dawlish’s hand appeared through her middle and ripped hairs from Draco’s head. He made no movement as to tell her he felt it, his body was too busy trembling from the aftershocks of the legilimency and the cruciatus curse.  _

_ Hermione slowly turned to see Dawlish sprinkling the hairs into a cup that was filled to the brim with a very familiar potion. As soon as the hair touched the potion, it turned a brilliant silver colour, shining against the dim light of the cavernous room. She watched as he walked over to the cage where he kept his animal and, speaking quietly, leaned over and handed the cup to Greyback, who drank it instantly. Within moments, the gross visage of the werewolf had turned into the cowering form of Draco. Dawlish stood up, pointing his wand at the thing in the cage and shouted ‘Avada Kedavra’. _

_ Hermione screamed as a green light filled the room and Greyback, in the form of Draco, slumped against the bars of his cage - his wide eyes empty. Hermione tried to throw up, but couldn’t. She was shaking from head to foot, tears streaming down her face as she turned back to face Draco, who’s eyes were wide in terror, staring at the dead version of himself. _

_ ‘Now, of course, I can’t keep you gagged forever Malfoy! But don’t worry your head about that - I have ways to make sure no one will ever know you are again. And when I am done with you, you get to watch as your lovely girlfriend finds you dead. You will get to watch as she collapses over your body and for the rest of your life she will look at you with nothing but hatred and disgust.’ _

_ Dawlish lifted his wand to his hand and watched as a deep cut formed there and he wiped his wand over the cut, covering it in his own blood. Then he pulled a vial from inside of his robes, it was filled with a deep red substance . Dawlish moved towards him, showing down the gag from Draco’s mouth and forcing the vial between his lips. Draco did not even have time to swallow before the gag was replaced and Hermione had to watch as his body formed the vile appearance of Fenrir Greyback. With the blood soaked wand in his hand, he lifted it between them and before Hermione could understand what he was doing he repeated the cutting on Draco and then pointed the wand, now dripping in their blood at Draco Greyback’s throat. _

_ ‘I would ask for your final words, Malfoy - but I don’t think murders deserve them!’ _

_ And then Dawlish began to chant, moving his wand to form runes of light between the two of them. _

_ ‘Dicam Non Magic, Vos Tenetur Ad Me, Vita Est Arcanum, Proditione Est Dolore’ _

_ And a sickening dread settled over Hermione as she watched the spell taking effect, as Draco’s eyes became hollow and he knew that he had no chance anymore. She wanted to move towards him, wanted to comfort him and tell him that she could find him, that she would figure it out, that he would not be alone in this world of pain forever. But she was pulled away into the darkness for the final time. _

  
  


* * *

It was like she was emerging from a deep pool of water after a long time without air. Opening her eyes, she gasped for it, dragging the breath into her lungs as she fought to regain control of her emotions. She could feel the tears running down her face, feel the shaking of her own shoulders and Draco’s hand in hers became tight and shaky.

‘Hermione!’ she heard Ron shout and footsteps move towards her as she sat up and took another shaky breath. 

When she finally lifted her head and met Draco’s eyes, her sobs were renewed as his face told her that he understood what had happened, that he had done it to save her.

‘Hermione!’ Harry’s hand touched her and she looked around to see them hovering close by, worried looks on their faces.

‘It’s blood magic!’ she spat out between sobs. ‘Dawlish has trapped him with illegal blood magic!’

* * *

Notes - SURPRISE - I was able to upload two chapters in two days, a promise I feel I have been making for a long time. 

So it has taken me a while to get to this point and now that all the memories are out in the open, I will be able to finish this gracefully. Thank you so much - as always - for you amazing continued support of this story and the world I have created within our amazing fandom.

BTW - If anyone wants to know what the chants mean - it is roughly translated latin that says 'speak no more, you are bound to me, your life is a secret, betrayal is pain.


	36. Chapter 36

Watching Draco while he slept had quickly become one of Hermione’s obsessions since she had been discharged from the hospital. It had taken her two more nights of thorough observation and rest to be cleared by both the hospital and the Ministry’s health department before she had been able to see him again. Throughout the night she would sit, like in a bedside vigil, and stare at his sleeping form. She would listen to his soft breathing, watch the slight rise and fall of his chest trapped in the fear that he would leave her again. The staff at St Mungo’s had quickly given up on arguing with her about visiting hours, knowing that it was a losing battle when she started to use Harry’s invisibility cloak to get access to his rooms. She had quickly learned that the night was the best time to be with him; Narcissa and Theo came to visit during the day and Hermione could not face the questions or the pain on his face when they realised he could not speak to them. 

The most she had seen him awake in the past two weeks were in the moments where the nightmares became too much. Usually twice a night, while Hermione was pouring over old texts and ancient tomes, she would hear the ever familiar hitch of breath and would raise her eyes to see his white hair fanned out like a halo as the dream took hold. Hermione dreaded to think about what he saw as she watched him begin to writhe. The memories she had seen that now haunted her, plaguing him regularly. On the first few nights, she had tried to rouse him, speaking softly and taking him gently in her arms. Soon she learned that nothing could wake him, his body and mind were trying to heal themselves and he would wake up when he was ready. His Healers had made it clear that he was in no immediate danger, but this news did not make her feel any less uncomfortable as she watched him struggle under the white hospital issue blankets.

At the end of his nightmares, she watched as Draco would fling himself awake, his hands clawing out in front of him as he tried to drag himself away from his nightly torture, reaching for the hand that she always placed at the side of the bed for him. Hermione would make eye contact with him, the silver pools hidden beneath sleep and memories, staring at her as if he, too, were looking to memorise every inch of her. Was he as scared of her disappearance as much as she was his? The fear he could not rightly express lined his face every night, before he allowed his body to fall back, before he allowed himself to slip once more into the darkness of sleep. Hermione had started to think that she would not be able to stop watching him sleep; she hated to think of him waking up, reaching for her hand and finding the chair empty. She hated to think about a time where he would think she had left him alone.

So her life had taken on a strange new routine; sitting through the night with Draco, leaving just as the sun rose over the buildings she could make out through the window, making her way back to Grimmauld Place for a few hours sleep and then to the Ministry to pore, once again, through the Archive Library. She spent most of her daylight hours there, now, looking for answers to the problem that no one had been able to fix.

Blood Magic was something that was not taught at Hogwarts and so she was unsure of a solution. The Healers said it was not a medical problem and that the magic only needed to be revoked. The Curse Breakers had tried everything they could with Dawlish’s wand and had so far come up with nothing of merit. Hermione had turned to Secrets of the Darkest Arts; the human leather skinned book that she had managed to procure from Albus Dumbledore after this death, out of desperation. But even this had been sketchy on the details and had explained that the process of using the magic had been exiled in the Warlocks Convention of 1709 after a few of its members were found to have been bound to do the bidding of a few British landowners. It was on the sixth day after her release that Kingsley had come and offered her use of the library that was reserved for Auror’s and Unspeakables on major cases and a further two days when he had allowed her to remove materials for perusal at her leisure.

As she placed her current reading,  _ Blood Magic and its Misuse by Grobart Waffelgib,  _ on his bedside table and let her eyes rest on his peacefully sleeping form, she let the fear of the last two weeks wash over her. The worst thing about this fear, she had begun to wonder, was that she was not scared about what had happened, or that he would never talk again; She had tried to stay strong, for him and for herself, tried to reassure him that everything would be okay. But the longer it drew on, the longer they were without an answer, the more she started to think that he would never be able to communicate with her again. 

She heard a sound from the door and jumped, expecting to see a Healer on an early round, but was shocked when she was met with the face of Narcissa Malfoy, gently pushing the door to and smiling at her. 

Hermione immediately rose from the chair and grabbed the book from the side.

‘Sorry Mrs Malfoy, I will just get out of your way,’ she sighed, forcing her eyes to the floor, not wanting to look at Narcissa. 

‘Don’t be silly Hermione,’ came the woman's voice and Hermione raised her eyes to see she had sat on the opposite side of the bed. ‘Please sit back down.’

‘I don’t think I should. I am usually gone by now, I didn’t realise it was the morning already.’

Hermione’s eyes glanced over at the large window, annoyed with herself for letting time pass and not realise that the sun had already risen. But was surprised to see that the window was still dark, the only lights visible were from the streetlamps beyond.

‘It is not morning yet,’ Narcissa confirmed. ‘I have to confess I am much earlier than I usually am. Now, please, sit down.’

Hermione hesitated, now staring back at the older woman and seemingly unable to move. Hermione would have liked nothing more than to leave the room, escape to the safe haven of her bedroom and sleep the rest of the morning away. The last time they had been in close contact had been the day Hermione had found the box. It had been the day that had started the snowball of information that had ended her here. It was the day she embarrassingly ran, crying hysterically, through Malfoy Manor and into the arms of Theo. But there was something in the light grey eyes of Narcissa Malfoy that convinced her to stay. So, even though her mind screamed its reluctance, Hermione found herself sitting, somewhat uncomfortably, back down and resigning herself to silence.

‘To tell you the truth, Hermione,’ Narcissa spoke after a few minutes. ‘I came here on purpose hoping to catch you, Mr Potter mentioned something about your nightly visits to my son.’

Hermione internally sighed, making a note to speak to Harry later about her business and how not to share it. He was very much aware of the reasons she was keeping out of others' way.

‘Harry?’

‘Yes, we have been in regular contact for Draco’s case and the trial of John Dawlish. I have also had regular contact with your other friend, Mr Weasley, who has been most helpful in the paperwork surrounding the case and the petition to get Draco’s death certificate overturned. Bureaucracy was never really my thing.’

As she explained it, Hermione noticed how light Narcissa seemed, as if the weight on her shoulders was so much less, she even looked younger. Younger than she had, perhaps, looked in years. She appeared to be what Hermione wished to feel, but Draco’s current predicament seemed to weigh down more on her every day.

‘But I have been unable, until now it seems, to get in contact with you.’

‘Me? I am not sure I can be of any assistance with those sort of things Mrs Malfoy. I am not an Auror and so some of the case specifics are unknown to me. As for the law side of things, I cannot tell you about the inner workings of the Ministry. All I know is that I am just a little disillusioned with their workings as of late.’

‘Miss Granger…’

‘Please, call me Hermione,’ she interrupted.

‘Hermione,’ she smiled softly. ‘It is not your assistance I am after. I actually wanted to express my gratitude.’

‘Gratitude?’

‘I admit that I did not realise the extent of your affections for my son until the day you turned up at the Manor. It truly shocked me. I did not think about how difficult it must have been for you to see Draco’s room until afterwards, when you came running through the entrance hall.’ 

‘I didn't mean to leave so abruptly,’ she admitted, a flush of shame spreading across her cheeks.

‘I do not blame you, I was insensitive. I knew of your…shall we say…dalliance. When Draco came home at Christmas to turn down the marriage proposal, I was shocked and intrigued. Of course, I am ashamed to say that I told him that he could have his fun and then return to complete his duty of marriage. You must understand, I have been raised to stick with Pureblood tradition and only wanted to see my son fulfil what - most would call - a decent life. But he was so adamant against it and I have never been one to say no to Draco. I wanted to know everything, to be sure he was making the right choice but he kept everything so close to his chest, as I explained in our last meeting. 

When he...died...I came to see another side of our world, a world without him in it. And suddenly I regretted everything I had done and tried to make him do. I started to feel that the only good thing I had ever been a part of was to get him out of there and to the Order when I did. I was so ashamed that I had tried to marry him off at the earliest convenience, that I had wanted his youth to be over before it had really started. When you turned up at my door, I knew that what you had had together must have been special, for you to step back inside my home not once but twice after what happened to you there; only love can bring about that strength.

And now, what you have done for my family, for Draco, is something I will never be able to thank you enough for.’

Hermione felt the flush extend from her cheeks and down to her chest. If she had expected anything from Narcissa Malfoy, it had not been this. In her mind, there was not any reason for thanks, she had done what was needed. 

‘I just did what was right,’ Hermione argued.

‘There are many people in this world that wouldn’t so much as help my family pick up a dropped item on the street. They would rather we suffer for the sins of the past and look no further than the ends of their noses. You, Hermione, have given so much to save him.’

An awkward silence fell between them, accepting thanks was something that Hermione did not often feel comfortable with. 

‘Mrs Malfoy…’

‘Narcissa. If I am to call you Hermione, I insist you return the favour.’

‘Narcissa, I do not want you to think that I knew the end game. I had no idea he was still alive - for me it was not about saving him. I just wanted justice!’

‘And in that, you have brought back the one person who brings light to my life.’

As she finished, the noise of shifting sheets from between them broke a comfortable silence. Looking down she saw Draco start to wake and a glimpse at the window confirmed that the sun had begun to rise. Leaning forward she took his hand in hers, raising it to her lips she kissed him, the same goodbye she gave every day. As she rose from her chair, Mrs Malfoy also rose.

‘Do you have to leave so soon?’ She asked imploringly. ‘I am sure he would love to see you in the daylight!’

‘Unfortunately I must get a few hours sleep in before I head to the library. He will see me in the daylight when I have figured out how to break the blood magic.’

Picking up her book, she headed towards the door but was stopped once more as a thin hand wrapped itself gently around her wrist. Turning, she saw Mrs Malfoy had moved to her, her eyes baring into her, pleading.

‘It doesn’t rest all on you to find out how to break the curse,’ she said quietly, her eyes full of something Hermione recognised as regret.

‘I know,’ Hermione smiled sorrowfully ‘But if I didn’t try everything I could, I would regret it for the rest of my life. Enjoy your day with him Narcissa.’

  
  


She had only been able to manage two hours of rest once she had made it back to Grimmauld Place. As with most mornings, Harry and Ron had met her with tea and breakfast before they headed off to work, promising to check in on her after their lunch. She had climbed under the sheets and willed herself to fall asleep, only to lie there in the semi darkness made by the blinds and turn over the conversation with Narcissa Malfoy in her head. She continued to tell herself that the thanks were not necessary, no matter how other people think, Hermione was just doing what was right at every moment. She had learnt all about that over the last seven years of her life. Would other people have thrown themselves into the third floor corridor? Would other people have risked their education and freedom for the life of an innocent man and a hippogriff? If you asked anyone on the street the hypothetical question, they would probably say they would, but in reality not many people would follow Harry the way she and Ron had done. Dumbledore had said that they had to make a choice between what is right and what is easy. Would it have been easy to mourn Draco and then move on with her life? Eventually, Hermione was sure she could live with the dull ache of life without him. Would it have been easier to accept that there was no corruption in the Ministry? Of course. But she knew there came a point when ‘what is easy’ morphed into ‘what can we ignore’ and that quickly disintegrated into ‘Magic is Might’.

By the time she made it to the archive library, after her two fitful hours of rest, it was late afternoon and the usual lure of the older books did not appeal to her. She was staring down at the aging pages and aching for someone to whisk her away. Part of her wished she had stayed when Narcissa had asked her, sure that his eyes would have lit up when he saw her still there in the morning sun. But could she have bared to see Draco sitting there, uncommunicative and despairing while they sat and talked about current affairs? 

Sighing, she returned to the book at the table before her and read a paragraph about the importance of wandlore in Blood Magic for the third time. She had finally managed to understand the wood choice importance when there came a crashing sound from the entrance and she leapt to her feet, wand in hand. Before she could actually cast anything, however, the flushed and sweaty figure of Ron had come into view.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked, fear flooding her. ‘Is Draco okay?’

‘Yes!’ he nodded, out of breath, his chest heaving. ‘Court room 3 - now!’

She furrowed her eyebrows and shook her head. ‘What?’

‘They have moved the trial up,’ Ron huffed. ‘Kingsley got an extra slot agreed by the Wizengamot and Dawlish is being brought over from Azkaban now. You have to get up there.’

Without another word, the two of them tore through the library and into the elevators, watching the grills clang shut as they almost jumped from foot to foot in their anticipation.

‘I don’t understand.’ Hermione said. ‘How did Kingsley agree to get them to move the date up?’

‘It’s all a bit bureaucratic if you ask me, but from what I have heard, Kingsley went to speak to the Head of the Unspeakables to see if they had any research on Blood Magic. Of course, they are notorious for secret keeping and cannot divulge a project unless commissioned.’

‘I don’t think it’s secrecy Ron,’ she sighed. ‘I am pretty sure it’s in their contracts.’

‘Well, anyway - Kingsley apparently said - fine I want to commission you for the Malfoy case - but they couldn’t. Turns out they can only be commissioned for a case that’s out of trial, any active trial case has to be suspended.’

‘But that’s ridiculous,’ Hermione exclaimed as the elevator rolled past level 5. ‘How would they expect to get anything done around here.’

‘It beats me. Apparently it’s some old rule that Fudge put in so that his projects in the Unspeakables Department could go ahead unregulated and unchecked.’ Ron rolled his eyes at this and slammed his finger once more on the button for level nine, his frustration evident. ‘So - Kingsley interrupted the session this morning - I wish I had been there to see the old codgers faces - and demanded the trial be moved up.’

‘I am sure they loved that!’

‘No! You know what some of them are like. They didn’t even want Malfoy getting past his trial last summer and, sorry to say this, but I think a few of them celebrated when the announcement was made about his death. Plus loads of them are good friends with Dawlish and have been wanting his release since his arrest.’

A cold shiver of loathing ran down Hermione’s spine. It still astounded her, even after all that had happened, how corrupt their justice system could be. The idea that men, men who have voted against muggles and supported Voldemort’s rise to power, or did nothing to stop it, could get off on sending a young man who helped win the war to jail made her feel ill. The idea that these same men, some who had helped others to commit atrocities by passing the most ludicrous laws, would be overjoyed at the death of a person just because they have made the wrong choices - it made her so angry.

‘But eventually they agreed, it might have had something to do with the fact that Kingsley refused to leave the courtroom until they agreed to it. Also, Dawlish’s charges were changed this morning and they are hoping that his sentence might be reprieved.’ Ron finally sighed.

‘Changed? Why?’

‘Originally he had to be charged with murder , along with everything else, as the death certificate had already been signed and declared. But as of 6pm yesterday, I was able to help Mrs Malfoy get it overturned and so now he is charged with criminal disposal without trial, kidnapping and torture, illegal memory addling, forced impersonation by means of magic, sedition and traitorous actions against the Ministry for Magic,’ he reeled off, counting them on his fingers.

Hermione stood in stunned silence as the grates finally opened on ‘Level 9: Department of Mysteries’ and then followed Ron down the familiar black corridor, turning to the left and making their way down the stairs. They had just reached the courtroom door when Hermione grabbed him by the top of his arm and turned him around.

‘But that’s five crimes! How could they possibly think Dawlish would get off on it?’

Before he could answer, Harry was running down the corridor towards them, his Auror robes flying behind him as he yelled ‘I’m here! I’m here! Sorry - I was at Mungo’s when I got your Patronus!’

‘Because Hermione,’ Ron said, turning back to her. ‘They didn’t inform anyone that the trial was happening and so they are under the impression that no witnesses for the prosecution are going to turn up. It’s already started so you are going to have to get in there quick!’

Harry stepped in front of her and pushed open the large wooden door and she followed him into the cold, cavernous room that was the largest criminal courtroom in the Ministry. It was the same courtroom that she had sat in, sweaty and hot, through the summer trials and watched Death Eaters sentenced to life imprisonment. It was the same courtroom that Harry had pleaded for Draco. 

At the sound of their entrance, all faces of the Wizengamot turned to face them, but Hermione did not return the look. Her eyes were glued to the figure seated in the chair in the middle of the room. John Dawlish was seated, his hands in chains, in the rough wooden chair, looking around the room as if he was being sentenced to death himself. His eyes were more sunken than the last time she had looked upon him, hair more dirty, his skin more grey. But underneath it all, she could see the fight within him, feel the smirk that was bursting to come out.

‘This is most unusual Auror Potter! Would you like to explain why you and Miss Granger are interrupting court proceedings?’ asked Elden Stephens, the current Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot.

‘Apologies Chief Stephens,’ Harry said. ‘But we have only just been made aware that the court had proceeded and we are witnesses for the prosecution.’

‘We were not aware that any witness had been called?’ shouted a wizard by the name of Woodward down from the topmost seats of the court.

‘Well, you are mistaken,’ Harry said back, his voice calm and collected.

‘Well, young man, we were just about to call for a vote on the issue of guilt - you are a little too late,’ sighed Stephens. Hermione had to admit to herself that Stephens did look upset about this, like he had wanted to hear what they had to say.

‘Then, I believe it is imperative that you hear what we have to say about this matter. I am afraid that you may not vote as required when you only have half the information.’

After this, there seemed to be no arguing with Harry and many of the Wizengamot members seemed to agree. She knew he hated using it, but his name was still big enough to stir pride in some, and fear in others. Before she knew it, she was seated in the witness box, the ones that had been so full of hatred during the summer trails, now full of only her as she watched Harry take the stand for questioning first.

‘Auror Potter, in the statement provided by the Auror Department, it details that you were present on the night of Mr Malfoy’s return to the wizarding world. Is this correct?’

‘Yes, I was present in the room with the Minister for Magic.’

Hermione could not help but notice the change in Harry as she watched him speak. Just over a year ago she had sat and listened to him speak of Draco’s innocence, a quiver in his voice and a shake in his hands. They had stayed at Grimmauld Place the night before going over his statement again and again, determined to make it perfect and practicing until the sun had risen in the bleak garden. But now, he was so sure of himself and of what he was saying that he did not even need to rehearse it. 

‘And can you describe what happened?’

‘We had brought the prisoner Fenrir Greyback to the Ministry for questioning on the orders of Kingsley Shacklebolt. There had been several rumours of a leak within the Ministry and we were concerned of existing DE activity playing a part in this. We had Greyback in room 2.11 and were attempting to question him. As you will see on all documentation provided after Greyback's arrest, we had been unable to communicate with him and the guards at the prison had also confirmed this. We had Greyback in room 2.11 for just over an hour when we noticed the changes in his appearance.’

‘Changes? Can you please elaborate Mr Potter?’

‘Yes. There was a change of eye colour, hair colour and length, skin colour and weight and body size. This change of appearance could only have been achieved and maintained by the use of Polyjuice Potion - which is confirmed in the Healer assessment. Before myself and the Minister’s eyes, Fenrir Greyback had transformed into Draco Malfoy.’

‘But at this point, a death certificate had already been issued to Narcissa Malfoy for the death of her son while in the line of duty for the Order of the Phoenix. What did Mr Malfoy say when you questioned him after his transformation?’

‘Nothing. He did not say anything as he was unable to speak. This is when Miss Granger saw Mr Malfoy and John Dawlish burst into the interrogation, attacked Miss Granger and had to be sedated.’

‘I was under the impression that Miss Granger was the first person to attack Auror Dawlish!’ shouted Woodward again, many of the other members murmured their agreement.

‘It is true that Miss Granger ran towards Dawlish - but there was no contact. Dawlish used a powerful and unapproved spell on a civilian within Ministry property. It was only after this that he was detained.’

‘And how did it come about that Auror Dawlish was arrested?’

‘After being taken to St Mungo’s, Draco Malfoy was put under a series of tests where it was proved that John Dawlish had committed serious actions against Malfoy and the Ministry and I was sent to remove him from detainment and place him into imprisonment to await trial.’

When Harry stepped down after further grilling, it was clear from the look on Dawlish’s face that he had been counting on them not to show up. The fear in his eyes was evident as he stared up at the courtroom and Hermione was sure that some of even the most hardened members of the court had been swayed by his testimony. By the time they called her name, however, she was not feeling as confident.

She had ridden dragons, faced dementors and brought a man back from the dead, but facing the room of old men she was terrified. She could see by the looks on their faces, the contempt they were holding for her, that they were predisposed to not believe a word she said. It was difficult to imagine, in their eyes, what this young girl held for them; the third member of the Golden Trio who had turned down the Ministry’s offer of work, the public girlfriend of the victim of the crime, the supposed attacker of the great Auror John Dawlish. As she peered over at Harry, who had taken his seat back in the witness box, she breathed deeply and settled her nerves, refusing to look at the direction of the chair where Dawlish sat and determined to bring an end to this.

‘Miss Granger, you were present the night of Mr Malfoy’s return?’

‘Yes, I was.’ she said, hearing the shaky edge in her voice as she spoke.

‘And what were you doing in the Ministry at those hours. You do not work for any department.’

‘No. I was…’ she paused, unsure of how to answer. Truthfully she had come to the Ministry to force the truth out of the Minister for Magic. But in this moment, that sounded like the worst thing she could say. ‘I was seeking a conversation with the Minister for Magic when Auror Potter and Auror Weasley came to the office and the discovery of the leak was made.’

‘And did you see the transformation take place?’

‘I did not. I only saw Draco Malfoy as I entered the room where Greyback had been placed.’

‘And did he speak to you?’

‘He could not,’ she sighed. ‘He was unable to speak. I had visited Fenrir Greyback in Azkaban a few weeks prior and had been met with the same condition. On my assessment, it looked like he was in pain whenever he attempted to communicate.’

‘Are you a Healer Miss Granger?’ Woodward asked, his voice snide and unpleasant.

‘No, Member Woodward, I am not.’ she resigned to telling the court and there was a ripple of murmurs that spread around them. Hermione clenched her fists, trying to keep calm.

‘Then we advise you to leave your medical assessments out of the courtroom as they are inadmissible’.

There was silence around the courtroom as the statement settled and, looking towards Harry, Hermione could see him shaking his head and rolling his eyes. At least she knew that there was at least one person on her side in here.

‘Thankyou, Member Woodward,’ Chief Stephens said, an edge to his voice. ‘Miss Granger, in the report it says that it is you who made the final discovery that led to Auror Dawlish’s arrest. Can you please explain how this came to be?’

‘When I was allowed to visit Mr Malfoy in the hospital, under guard by Auror Weasley and Auror Potter, I was informed that the curse breakers were working on a way to get him speaking again. The Healers could see no reason for him not to speak and so I asked Auror Potter if anyone had tried legilimency on him.’

‘And had they?’

‘No, it appeared that Mr Malfoy had a natural legilimency gene in his bloodline and so a natural block had been put in place so that there was minimal access to his memories. I am speculating with my next statement, but I think it is because he was worried about who else might be able to access them. However, with the use of rudimentary sign language and a decision of trust, I decided to give it a go.’

‘And what made you think that you would be able to access these memories?’

‘It is common knowledge, from an article in the Daily Prophet, that Mr Malfoy and I were seriously involved. I believed that if he could trust anyone, he would be able to trust me.’

‘And what did you find within the memories?’

Hermione breathed in sharply, unsure if she would be able to divulge any more than she already had in the report that had been taken not long after she had revealed them. Not only for Draco’s trust, but for her own sanity. She was already having a tough time not waking up with nightmares and seeing flashes of the memories during the day, how could she possibly relive them in a crowded courtroom?

‘Miss Granger, if you feel uncomfortable telling us, we would be more than happy for you to project them for us.’

Once more, Hermione looked towards Harry, silently pleading with him to give her the answer she so desperately needed. As her fingertips gripped the edge of the witness stand, he made eye contact with her, his eyes full of fire and resolution, and nodded.

‘I will Chief Stephens,’ Hermione answered and, lifting her own wand to her temple, she projected the memories that she had been shown.

  
  


Unusually, she entered the ward in St Mungo’s much earlier than she would, flanked by Harry and Ron who had joined her to tell Draco and his mother the good news. Hermione felt as if she was floating on air as her footsteps echoed on the tile floor of his wing. 

After the memories had been shown, the courtroom atmosphere had changed significantly, as had the demeanor of the defendant, who started to sink into his chair, the chains shaking as he did so. As Hermione had left the stand, Harry had taken her hand in his, squeezing it tightly as they watched the Wizengamot deliberate over a verdict, only pausing to summon Kingsley for a suggested verdict and sentence.

As they reached Draco’s door, she could hear a lot of talking and laughing behind it and wondered who Mrs Malfoy could be speaking to so avidly. Pushing the door open revealed a plethora of people, who all fell silent and turned to them upon their entrance. 

Draco was sitting up in bed and smiling so widely that it made Hermione’s heart stop. Narcissa had been in an animated conversation with Theo, who was standing, attempting to put flowers into a vase. The laughing was coming from Blaise and Ginny, who Hermione had not seen since graduation. They greeted her with bright eyes and open mouths, as if they had been waiting for her arrival.

‘Hermione, Mr Weasley, Mr Potter - come to join the party?’ Narcissa asked in a light voice.

‘Oh..erm…’ Hermione stuttered.

‘Yes we have Mrs Malfoy,’ Harry said from behind her and she felt his hand push against her lower back, forcing her further into the room.

‘It looks fun in here,’ Ron stated as he walked over to Ginny , giving her a brotherly hug.

‘Yes, we were all laughing at how terribly Theo was putting flowers in the vase. It turns out he is just as useless as flower arranging as he was at being a prefect,’ Ginny laughed.

‘Hey! I resent that!’ Theo bit back. ‘I was a good prefect...when I remembered!’

‘And when you weren’t in the hospital wing!’ laughed Blaise.

‘And you can talk about that can you?’ Theo shot back.

As the oddly normal conversation bounced around the small room, Hermione watched Draco as he reacted; his head turning this way and that with high energy, his smile clear when he wanted to laugh, his slight touch upon his mother’s hand fragile. And in an instant, his eyes were on hers and his hand beckoning her over. As she moved to sit on the bed beside him, the others started to move away.

‘We should leave you to it,’ Theo said, starting towards the door.

‘Yeah, I really want to keep my lunch down,’ joked Blaise.

‘No!’ Hermione said, suddenly a lot louder than she had anticipated. ‘I mean - if you stay, we have some news.’

‘Please go ahead Hermione’ Narcissa admonished politely. Hermione took hold of Draco’s hand and took a deep breath.

‘Kingsley was able to get Dawlish’s trial moved up to today. The Wizengamot tried to get it done quickly and in secret so that some of Dawlish’s fans wouldn’t be swayed by the evidence, but Ron managed to get Harry and I there just in time and we were able to supply the court with a lot of evidence against him.’

Everyone around the room seemed to be frozen, waiting on bated breath and resistant to interrupt.

‘He was found guilty of all charges and...he is going to spend the next 40 years in Azkaban.’

Hermione heard the cheers and congratulations from around the room, the people behind them breaking into their own gossip and Harry now animatedly going into details about the questions, the way Woodward wanted them out of the courtroom and his own statement. But Hermione was too busy watching Draco, who had hung his head as soon as the verdict was announced. Hermione took her hand and lifted his chin to see a single tear of relief running down his face.

‘He isn’t even allowed to apply for parole,’ she continued so that only he could hear her. ‘They said he was a danger to the new society that they are trying to build and...that no one should be afraid of changing who they are.’

The warmth of his smile filled her with so much love, that she could not help but smile with him, knowing that another barrier to the end of this nightmare had been taken down.

‘Tell them about the wand, Hermione!’ came Ron’s voice over the din of the room and everyone fell silent once more. In her desperation to get the news of the verdict out, she had nearly forgotten. Now with all eyes on her, she reached into the inside pocket of her jacket and produced the wand; 11 and a quarter inches, elm, dragon heartstring.

‘As part of his punishment, as recommended by Kingsley, they have removed Dawlish’s wand to my possession so that I will be able to experiment on it in the hopes of finding a cure for the Blood Magic curse. It turns out, Dawlish only knows how to put one on and has no idea how to remove it,’ she added sadly. ‘They tested him under Veritaserum with no results. But I know it has to do with wandlore, so I am sure I can do it.’

‘Well, that sounds very positive dear.’ said Narcissa. ‘What do you think you will try first?’

‘Well,’ said Hermione, looking at Narcissa and seeing the others hanging onto her every word. ‘My plan is to take the wand to Mr Olivander first and try to work out the changes the blood magic made to the core and then…’

But before she could say any more, she felt a cold hand on her arm. Turning to face Draco she saw his eyes were intent upon the wand in her hand, as if he were drawn to nothing else.

‘Do you want to hold it?’ Hermione asked, confused as to why he would want it near his person, but he nodded.

‘Malfoy, you really don’t have to,’ Harry said as he came to stand by the bed. ‘We don’t want it to cause any adverse reactions.’

But it seemed that Draco was not listening to him, his hand outstretched and slowly reaching towards the thin bit of wood in her hand. What Harry said made sense, the last thing she wanted was a relapse, or for him to be in any pain, but his eyes were imploring her to pass it over and, before she could really make a conscious decision, she felt her arm reaching out towards him.

It started the moment he clenched it in his fist and Hermione screamed, not understanding what was happening. As Draco’s fingers closed around the elm stick, it began to glow and his arm began to shake as if he was going into a fit. Others in the room had jumped towards the bed, Blaise even tried to prise his hands apart, but nothing worked. Hermione could not take her eyes off the sight before her, the light emitting from the wand was getting brighter and had started to emit a strange hum.

‘Ginny! Run and get a Healer,’ Ron shouted and Hermione heard the door open and Ginny screaming down the hallway.

‘Draco!’ Hermione screamed, but he seemed unable to look at her as he brought his other hand towards the wand, attempting to grab hold. She pushed it away but found that, for someone whose strength had wasted away, he was surprisingly strong.

‘Harry, help me!’ she shouted, and saw his hand grab onto Draco’s wrist, trying to pull it away, but even he couldn’t manage it. 

As Draco’s other hand connected, the light became blinding and Hermione had to squint against it. The musical hum had reached a volume that had begun to hurt her ears and Hermione could only just hear the door slam open behind her announcing the arrival of a Healer and Ginny.

‘You’ve got to move, Hermione,’ she heard Harry shout and he placed his hands around her waist and pulled her away.

It was like nothing Hermione had seen before; everyone had backed away to the walls as they watched Draco, his whole body taking on the light of the wand, his entirety shaking with the effort of it.

‘Draco! Draco!’ she found herself screaming, trying to be heard over the hum of the wand.

And then he made eye contact with her and she saw that his grey eyes had become pearly white, shining like an angelic being sent down from the heavens. He opened his mouth, took what appeared to be a life giving breath and brought his arms down with all the force he had, breaking the wood cleanly in half.

And as if it had never happened, the room was silent again. There was no hun, no light, nothing at all to tell them that it had ever happened. Hermione, not caring that it could still be dangerous, ran towards him and grabbed the wand pieces from his hands, throwing them on the floor. They clattered across the tiles and hit the opposite wall, silent and still. She brought her hands to him, cupping his face and silently praying that he wasn’t more damaged than he had been moments before. His skin was flushed and warm to the touch, his eyes returned to the bright silver that she knew and loved and he was breathing deeply.

‘Are you okay?’ she asked quickly, rubbing her thumbs across his cheekbones in an futile attempt at finding out. 

He opened and closed his mouth and furrowed his eyebrows as he looked around the room and then back at her. The look he gave her was so intense that she was so sure it would be the last time she looked up to him. But it wasn’t, he opened his mouth and her heart plummeted, a sob escaping her lips as she felt it; the low rumble of his chest that moved up to the resonance of his cheekbones as he spoke in the most wonderful voice.

‘Hermione!’

  
  


* * *

As she walked through the grounds of the Manor, she could not help but marvel at the beautiful flowers that bloomed at this time of year. If Narcissa could do anything, he always said, it was that she could tend a good garden. The autumn season was just rolling in, and she was sure that this was to be the last good day to be able to spend outside, thanking every deity she could imagine for the good weather they were blessed with.

The last time they had all gotten together like this, had been the Naming Ceremony and it seemed too strange to think that Scorpius had been a part of their lives for a year. Some would say that it felt like no time at all since she had held her newborn son in her arms, brushing his soft blonde hair and vowing to protect him with everything she had. Some would say that the time had flown by since she awoke to the sight of Draco holding their son in his arms and looking at him as if he had never seen anything quite as wonderful. But to her, it seemed that their little boy had always been a part of them, a junction in their lives that had always been there just waiting for them to meet it.

As she looked around the vast grounds at their friends and family, Hermione vowed that she would endeavor to see them all more. The Weasley clan were dotted around in various places, but it was clear to see Harry standing next to Ron as he cradled Lily against his chest, talking to Blaise who seemed unable to take his eyes off Ginny and their beautiful daughter Isla. Not far along, Hermione laughed, she could see Theo trying to have a conversation with Luna and Neville, and both men looking at the blonde as if she had grown two heads.

‘Hermione, there you are,’ came a soft voice from behind her and she turned to see her mother in law, holding a very fidgety Scorpius.

‘Would you like me to take him?’ she asked Narcissa.

‘Heaven’s no!’ she said quickly. ‘I don’t get him enough as it is,’ she smiled sadly. ‘I just wanted to let you know that the drinks table is set up inside for when you wanted to move the party inside.’

‘We’ll do that now actually,’ she smiled back at Narcissa and turned to the guests. ‘The drinks and food are ready inside everyone.’

Giving Scorpius a quick kiss on the blonde covered forehead, she turned towards the incoming horde, looking around for the glimpse of the other blonde haired man at the party, but could not see him anywhere. As he was walking past, she grabbed Theo.

‘Have you seen Draco anywhere?’ she asked.

‘Yeah,’ he nodded and looked around nervously. ‘I didn’t want to say anything and spoil the party. I saw him walking over to the left wing of the garden.’ he said, dropping his voice low.

‘The left side?’ she repeated, her voice filled with worry. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Positive,’ he sighed.

‘Okay, would you mind helping Narcissa hold the fort in there. I will go and get him.’

Theo nodded and she walked away, making her way towards the left wing. It was not a place they usually visited, not that they spend an inordinate amount of time at the Manor as it was. The only reason they had agreed to hold Scorpius’ birthday party there was because Narcissa had insisted and Hermione knew that Draco felt bad about how much she had excluded herself over the last few years. Everytime they did come, however, Draco always seemed to end up here and usually she would leave him until he came back of his own accord. It was not somewhere that she particularly liked.

As she made her way towards the imposing white marble building, she felt a lump start to form in the back of her throat, unsure of which Draco she would be meeting as she entered. If she ever came here, it was alone and without him knowing, she was unsure if she was ready to face it with him. But as she walked up the few steps and entered the low light of the Malfoy Mausoleum in silence, her breath stilled upon the sight of him.

He had worn one of his favourite shirts today, it was a lovely light blue that stood out against the white marble and grey stone of the inside of the building. It was pulled tight over his broad chest and shoulders as he stood tall with his hands in his pockets, just staring at the plaque in front of him. His face was expressionless, as was his voice when he finally spoke.

‘Bravery is always moving forward,’ he said. ‘Did you pick it?’ he asked.

She moved forward to meet him, standing by his side as he stared at his own grave. Hermione knew she didn’t have time at this moment to ponder the oddness of this moment and wonder how many other people could say they have done anything like this, but find herself pondering it, she did.

‘You know I didn’t. I am pretty sure it was your mother.’ she answered in a warm voice.

‘Where’s our boy?’ he asked quietly.

‘With his grandmother, I am sure she is filling him with a lot of sweets and making sure that we don’t get any sleep tonight,’ she laughed and he joined in with her, the rich sound echoing off the cold walls.

‘I don’t think I will ever get over staring at my own grave,’ he said quietly and Hermione could hear the edge of pain in his voice. ‘I can’t even begin to fathom…’

‘Please don’t,’ she whispered, turning to face him and placing her hand on his chest. ‘Please don’t upset yourself. You’re here, I am here, your son’s here!’

‘I know,’ he smiled turning to face her and placing his hand upon her jaw. ‘I have everything I could ever want. Come, forget my melancholy, I am sure there is cake to eat.’

As he led them away from the tombs and down the garden path to the manor house, Hermione could not help but smile. Smile at the way he slipped his arm over her shoulder and squeezed gently, smile as his soft fragrance washed over her, smile at the faint noise of their family growing softly louder as they grew closer to the party. If this was the life that she had imagined for herself, she realised that her imagination had done everything right, for she could never have seen herself this happy.

Stopping suddenly she took a deep breath and turned towards him once more.

‘What’s wrong?’ he asked her.

‘Absolutely nothing!’ she chuckled. ‘Draco, everything is so wonderful. I love you so much.’

‘Hermione - have you let my melancholy get to you too?’ he said, raising his eyebrows and wiggling them.

‘No - but I do want to tell you something.’

He raised his eyebrows again, waiting for her to speak, waiting for the moment she would change his life once again. And Hermione knew, in that moment, that the illusion of life she had created for herself was an illusion no more, their future was real.

‘Draco!’ she smiled. ‘I’m pregnant!’

* * *

Notes - So...it's finished! I promised myself I wouldn't cry!

I hope you have had just as much of an amazing time reading this story as I have writing it. It was my very first multi-chapter fic and I have definitely learned a lot about writing and about myself in this time. Illusioned has made my 2020 lockdown worth living through and all the amazing people I had met because of it is just one of the many reasons I will love it for the rest of my life. I now leave my baby in your capable hands with a promise for the future of 'Illusioned' that should hopefully be coming soon. #watchthisspace.

I love you all!


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